Loyalty Like Mountains
by RecycledRaccoon
Summary: Everyone in this life or the next is born to do something, some destiny chosen by fate laid out before them like a paved road. Personally, I think I was here specifically to change those roads. Fate could kiss my ass.
1. Dreams

Death, I've found out, is much like a dream.

When it happens, and it will, it's unreal. I watch, captivated as events unfold and find despite my best wishes, that I am unable to change the outcome. It plays in the mind, jumping from point to point in no particular order, replaying from random points as I am pushing for a change in each and every one. You can't, in the end, change anything. What's been done is done, and when everything is over we all hope to be content with what we have left in our wake.

Death, I've discovered, is very much like a dream, and, like every other dream I've ever had, save perhaps the weird ones, I've forgotten it within twenty minutes.

So imagine this: One moment, you remember being alive. Remember a life with a family and with friends, with meaning, with dreams and goals. But then, a snap. It gets fuzzy, days blend in your memory and you can't differentiate what happened when. Meanwhile, well your most recent memories get fuzzy without you even noticing, you are slammed with something so vibrant, so real and unreal at the same time, that you feel like you'll never forget.  
It's a sunset ending the most amazing day you've ever had, that you remember years after, as vibrant in your memory as it was that day so long ago. It's the memory of the smile of someone you love, burned so deeply into who you are that you can never remove it.  
Except, just as it ends, you're plunged into darkness, warmth that wraps around you that should feel like a scarf in winter but in your panic it's a noose around your neck.

That is, perhaps, the only way I can really describe what happened to me.

One moment everything was unreal, like something out of a movie.

Then I was in the dark, flailing around in some kind of warm liquid, and god! I felt so trapped. I couldn't breathe, it was so terrifying that it overtook every inch of my thought process as I struggled. The overwhelming need to get out overtook any rational thought.

It took a little bit before I realized that I wasn't suffering even though I couldn't find any air to take into my lungs from my surroundings. At which point, I can finally say I calmed down enough to stop and try to think.  
I didn't know where I was, and I couldn't move about enough to properly look for an exit of some sort. So it was at that point, that I tried to remember what happened.

I reached for the recent memories I knew had to be there, but they began to slip through my fingers like sand. I tried to grip onto something, anything, but it slipped away from me as if it was taunting me, leaving only one fact behind as one final jab at me.

At the end of it all, I knew only one thing for sure.

I was dead. I knew I was dead. As sure as I knew my own name, as I knew my mother's or father's, siblings, or even my dog's name.

I knew I was dead.

I'm not ashamed to say that when this came to light, I cried. Well, tried to at least. I shook, I held myself, I opened my mouth to make a pointless, empty scream that was sucked into the empty void around me. It was, at the very least, therapeutic, especially when tag-teamed with my duel-limbed flailing, and my curling as tightly into a fetal position as possible when the flailing didn't help.

Take a moment to think about all that you lose when you die. All you left behind, all the people who have to buckle down and learnt to live without you. The parents who have lost a child. The friends, who can't rely on you to be there supporting them anymore, can't smile with them, laugh with. Hell, even the pets that have suddenly lost the rock of which their entire life has been founded on, wondering always why you aren't coming back.

And then there's you (me, it's me) left alone in the darkness, longing for what you have lost. No closure, no comfort, just…..loneliness. Despair.

I found no comfort, did however, exhaust myself emotionally and physically. Combined, it allowed me to fall into some sort of dreamless sleep. There is a certain…..joy, in nothingness. Not quite comfort, but a relief all the same.

After that, I kinda tapped out of the whole situation, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Everything was dark and empty. Aside from feeling warm where I was, it was like being deprived of sensation for quite a while.

But that ended when the cramps came. Which, let me tell you, was a REAL bitch. Like, come on. I've died, I'm in a dark hell of nothing, taking what little refuge I can, and suddenly I'm getting cramps again? I. Was. Pissed. Fuck the traditional pictures of hell, this was worse. Fuck cramps, fuck menstrual cycles, fuck goddamn wombs and puberty. I was so over this shit, bring on the hell fires and eternal damnation.

What I got instead, was, well. At first it was a creeping pain, spreading out in all directions it seemed, from cramps in my abdomen. Then it turned...into something warm. Like, hell. It was like some kinda medical fluid, I think? I guess I could describe it as when I was at the hospital once, with the IV in my arm and its pumping something into my veins that leaves a warm trail behind it as it goes. Except it just wasn't in my arm. It was everywhere, spreading out and filling me up and staying there, like it was laying pathways. (Which, hint: It was. Though I didn't know that until later.)

So there was that, taking me out of my zoned-out state, and forced back into the situation. So I focused on that for a while, tracing out the paths it was laying in my mind, like a maze, because at least it was something to do, and no longer hurting me.

Which of course, meant while I was distracted with that, that rest of my world decided to send everything to shit. Suddenly my "comfortable" (if it could be called that) space was freaking out, closing in on me from all directions and squeezing the ever living shit out of me, pushing me...somewhere.

It was a universal message that I understood clearly.

"That's for visiting, now GTFO."

Well, fuck you too! I'm out, didn't want to be here anyway. Fucking asshole.

Ok, so I didn't realize I was a new baby being born until the very end. Suddenly I was squeezed out like pus from a pimple (God, why did I give myself that mental image?), and into giant fucking hands handling me like a much more fragile potato sack.

I learned some things very quickly after that.

1\. Being a baby and being manhandled by nurses was fucking terrifying, and every baby ever, is totally justified in screaming their tiny little lungs out, which honestly, same. Screaming is totally a thing and wow it takes way longer for me to run out of breath as a tiny ass baby. Cool. Great Power, Great Responability.  
2\. Ok, wow, smell. I didn't realize wombs actually had a smell, until I was thrust into open air again. Fuck if I could describe what I was smelling before to anyone else now, but it was like being slapped in the face by cold winters air tickling your nose. When my face was wiped off and I got my first good wiff, I did what I always do when faced with the winter's air. Scrunched that nose and looked for something to press my face into.  
3\. Baby's eyesight is total shit. Like, it's totally bullshit. Colors are hard to tell apart, and that's even after something came into my tiny-ass range of vision. Anything not bowed down near my face to coo at me, was kinda a blur. If this didn't clear up in a timely manner, I was going to be pissed, because I didn't even realize I needed glasses to see far away things until I was a month shy of twenty-one last time, and I don't think I even made it a full year of life after that.

So, picture tiny-me, flailing and screaming, trying very hard to smack whoever was holding me, and my arms not quite doing what I wanted them to do. Motor control was a fucking bitch. I was passed around for a while, put into a blanket I believe was a light shade of blue, and pushed into somebody's arms, where I stayed. It took a little while for them to properly get my attention, as I was looking everywhere in this new blurry world.

When I did look up, into was into gold-amber eyes.

Which kinda took a back-seat to the purple hair this woman had. Purple. Badass, New-Mom. Love the punk theme you got going on here. The round facial features kinda took away from her looking scary, though, and made her seem more soft. Probably a by-product of labour. Well see if she remains soft-faced.

Then Dad came into view. I knew it had to be my new Dad, because he was blubbering like an idiot, clearly overwhelmed with emotions. New-Dad was starkly different from New-Mom. Dark-black hair was pulled into a tight bun in what was obviously a hair-style he stole from feudal Japan, and his eyes were equally dark. Like, straight up borderline black. If he hadn't been a sobbing mess, I might have been tempted to think 'demon', due to the sharpness of his facial features.

I caught Mom giving Dad a tired grin, as I was looking back and forth between them, when Dad started chanting my new name. Well, at the time I assumed it was my name, 'cause it was the only thing he was saying, like it was stuck on repeat.

Yasu. Yasu. Yasu. Ect, ect.

Yasu, huh? Well, I guess I was in some sort of Asian country….Reborn with my memory intact. I wonder how long that will last? Or was this some kind of cosmic fuck-up?  
Well, no matter. To many things to do to worry about that now. Like figuring out my new language, and learning to read again, because fuck me, I am not enduring another childhood without anything to read. I was practically a book worm from birth last time, and dammit, I didn't see any reason to change that.

So, me. Welcome (back) to life. Let's do this shit.

I take everything back, let's not do this shit. Being a baby sucked. Breastfeeding? Sucked. No idea what anyone was saying? Sucked. Having to take shits in my own 'underwear' because there is literally no control over bowels? Suuuuuucked.

But, I did learn some new things over the next few days.  
1\. My name was Yasu Akiyama. Born August 11th, which wow, what a qawinky-dink. I loved picking August 11th as a birthday for characters in my farm simulators, or rp-sites. Favorite month, favorite number? Hella sweet, so down for that. Thanks, fate.  
2\. Cramps were never going to be a thing again. Neither were boobs. Because I had a penis this time. Which was AWESOME. No more sitting down to pee! I could pee on a damn tree if I wanted to! Ooh! Male pronouns this time around, that would be a nice change. If I didn't start growing hair on my face after puberty though, I was going to start a riot. Long story short, I thought it was pretty cool to have a penis this time, though I wasn't looking forward to boners.  
3\. Mom and Dad were Azami and Eiji Akiyama, respectively. Mom was short, but seemed to be way stronger than Dad from what I gathered watching through my fuzzy vision. She was a pro at all the heavy lifting, strong arms toned with muscles. Dad's arms were like twigs in comparison. Dad did all the cooking, seemingly taking pride in strapping me to his chest in some sort of bundle as he did household chores, which eventually included feeding me, cause I only breastfed for a few days, thankfully. He was on point with this household shit. Go Dad.

I didn't get my first and most blatant hint at my new world until about a week into my new life. At first, my primary toys that I actually paid attention to, were all stuffed. Bears and dog stuffed animals, primarily. (The big husky/wolf looking stuffy was the softest, which was a bonus, 'cause he was my favorite. I named him 'Les Stroud' in my head, since I liked to think of myself as some reincarnation 'survivorman'.)

Then, with no warning beyond my mother's sneaky grin, I was presented with a new gift. It had a squishable rubber coating, and presented no danger to my well being. Hell, the tip must have had a container in it with tiny balls, cause it made a nice rattling sound. Which, cool, rattle. (Also very chewable. The impulse to shove things in my mouth was **strong**.)

Classic toy, right?

Well maybe it would have been, if it wasn't shaped like a goddamn kunai. A kunai. Like, full stop, Naruto-style kunai. Who in the right mind made a kunai shaped rattle for a baby? Like, wasn't that page 1 in the universal book of baby rearing? 'Keep knives and sharp objects away from small children'. Sure, it wasn't sharp, but that wasn't the point! Who in their right minds gave a baby a fake dagger/throwing knife/thing?!

Of Course, my confusion was evident on my face, even as I kept experimentally swithcing between shaking the damn thing, like I couldn't believe what I was (barely) seeing, and chewing it (tasted like rubber, go figure). I was at the time, a completely baffled baby. My Mom actually snapped a picture of it, as it was among the first pages of the photobook Dad started back when they just got the news that they would be parents.

I think they may or may not have regretted giving it to me, cause I treated it like a judge's gavel, shaking it aggressively anytime I wanted something or was angry at whatever baby-face Dad was making at me. (The first time I bopped him in the nose was priceless. Kinda wish Mom had gotten a picture of Dad's face after that, as he wiped residual baby-slobber off his face. She was pretty proud though, I could tell.)

My first month of life kinda progressed in a similar manner after that.

Mom and Dad were focused on me and my almost non-stop hunger and unpredictable sleep pattern. Bath times were fun, because me and water had always been friends. I left the house for regular checkups with men and women in traditional doctor and nurse garb, and went with Dad to the street markets at least once or twice a week, when he wasn't working.

He always went on Sundays at least, from what I gathered once I got a handle on what day it was, and thus began my tracking of time. The markets were fun and colorful, and always better every time I went, as I noted my vision was slowly getting better. I wasn't quite sure when or where I was, but I figured I'd find out eventually. I had things like motor-skills to work on anyway, geography seemed a little out of range for my tiny body.

Language meanwhile, seemed to flow naturally into my brain. A trickle of understanding at first, and then a tidal wave. I was glad to be swept up in it.

Life was...good. Well, as good as it could get for somebody reincarnated with memories of a past life intact. I was getting somewhat comfortable with my situation, even if I couldn't say anything substantial aside from whatever blubbering noise I was making at the time. That first month was perhaps the best, looking back on it. Both Mom and Dad were happy, relaxed.

It didn't last (things never last anymore).

It wasn't that they started fighting, or anybody got sick. No, the problem was that Mom was getting restless. She kept leaving the house early, wearing strange clothes that I couldn't get a good look at. She always came back smelling like sweat, having been gone longer each time, and I could see Dad's face fall into some sort of sad resignation.

The second month was marked mostly by Mom's frenzy, seemingly getting ready for something. I didn't know what, but it was infectious in the worst way. Dad was getting antsy, his open book of a face perpetually set in something like worry and longing. But he didn't say anything, at least nowhere near anywhere I could overhear, even if I didn't know everything they were saying just yet.

The day Mom left, marked a change in my life.

It wasn't the sort of leaving where she walked out without a word. We had a goodbye, and the equivalent of an 'I'll be back'. But I caught on quickly to my situation. The moment of clarity, when the veil of denial was removed, is bitter on my tongue.

Because I saw her headband for the first time, in combination with a chunin vest. It was scuffed, nowhere near shiny, but it was clean and well cared for. The Leaf of Konoha was clear on the front of the metal, the black band keeping the metal snug against my Mom's head, with her vibrant purple hair peeking over the band in shaggy spikes that weren't held back by her short ponytail.

She wasn't wearing it ironically, even the flak-jacket looked worn but military grade, she was standing tall, and solemn. Her eyes burned gold, strong and fierce in a way I almost couldn't believe. It all came rushing into my mind in one go, this realization of where I was. The kunai, the leaving and coming back smelling of sweat. Mom was a Ninja of Konoha, a real, live Konoha that existed around me as more than a story or a show. More than a base for the fanfics I would read by the dozens. I was here, and god it terrified me to the bone. My lips quivered, my body shaking in a way that caused Dad to try and bounce me on his hip.

We ended up going with Mom, past the markets and into the rest of the…village, of which I hadn't seen. To the gates, where a crowd of similarly dressed people had gathered by the dozens. When we got closer, I could tell that they were armed to the teeth, just like Mom.

There was a tension in the air.

We waited there a while, Mom talking with a few other ninja's as Dad stood to the side, holding me, watching her. More Ninja's filed in, some with families, some without. Everyone was saying their goodbyes, organizing themselves, and heading out in groups. Before she left past the gates, Mom came over to us. She leaned over to press one gentle kiss to my forehead, before Dad shifted me away so he could bend down to gently kiss Mom.  
They whispered something to each other, words I couldn't hear or understand. But I saw the lips move, saw the expressions on their faces. Then Mom turned around and walked out past the gates without a further word, her short stature making her disappear into the group of Ninja's leaving. Dad was shaking a bit, and he didn't stay to see the rest of the groups of Ninja's leave. He turned for home as soon as Mom's group was no longer visible to him.

I understood then, even if nobody told me in words I could understand fully. This wasn't teams going out for routine missions. This seemed more like soldiers going out to war.

And to war they went.


	2. Child of War

Life seemed to blur together after that, more so then it was before. Dad had to work, so often I would be deposited into some sort baby day-care. I didn't care for it much, and spent most of the time hiding away with a blanket from the other kids.  
Everytime Dad came back for me I was ecstatic, and he would scoop me up into his arms. He always, always said the same thing everytime. "Missed you, baby boy!

My routine didn't change much aside from daycare, still mostly eating and sleeping, but now most of it was spent with strangers faces passing me by. After I was eventually picked up, I'd spend the evening like always, just him and me. It was….special, except morning would come and everything looped right back to the beginning again.

Dad's smile wasn't as bright anymore. He was perpetually worried it seemed, every time he wasn't directly interacting with me, a sort of melancholy fell over him. An unintended side effect was that Dad talked to me more, less in a baby-talk way, and more of a narrating his life sort of way. I picked up words and their meanings much faster after that, which meant life became slightly less boring, which wasn't saying much.

But still, life progressed. I made my milestones in the simple things. In my motor control, or strength gathering in my tiny, somewhat useless limbs. Then came the beginnings of solid foods, which was both heaven and hell.

I have always been a picky eater. I liked what I liked, and refused what I didn't know out of fear, and how it smelled. Textures had always been an issue, as had strong potent smells such as from tomatoes and mushrooms. I had partially expected this to go away with my reincarnation, after all, my new baby brain would have new pathways, right? Old issues would disappear, wouldn't they?

I found that it didn't quite work like that. I was an adult consciousness working with a child's brain. I was used to thinking in certain ways, which resulted in paths being created rapidly that were familiar to me. So, food was once more a tedious event. Something's stayed the same. I hated tomatoes and mushrooms with a passion, throwing a tiny baby fit any time Dad came near me with them, even if he was eating his cooked mushrooms a bit too close to me, close enough for the smell to work it's say to my little nose. Squashes were barely tolerated, as where things like green beans or peas.  
Other things, however, changed with time and perseverance. Fish, which once was only a small and mildly tolerated part of my diet, became a big one. Dad always seemed to have fish around in the house, almost for every meal. So, I to found myself enjoying it in all its forms. I found enjoyment in more types of fruit and vegetables, depending on how they were cooked of course. To soft and I refused, which was much more accepted when one was a baby and not a twenty-something adult. I shamelessly took advantage of this.

Teething was a pain in my tiny little ass, but Dad plied me mostly with bits of frozen fruits, such as small slices of peaches, and some plastic rings that were used exclusively to gnaw on. (I didn't want to put tiny teeth marks in my rattling kunai, after all.)

I had about four teeth to my name, and a fairly good grasp of understanding Konoha's verison of japanese, when Mom came home.

Dad had been getting letters from Mom every few weeks, which he had been reading to me eagerly each time they came, sometimes more than once, always going quite and skipping what I assumed to be the more depressing aspects of war. (A lot of what Dad read to me from the letters were comments and questions about me, about missing Dad or things to do together some time. Mom's letters always sounded so lonely.) One letter came however, and Dad perked up in a way I barely remembered from my first month of new life. He was bright with life, after that letter. Fussing over me and the house, doing his work with a pep in his step. In those moments, he looked so young and happy. It was infectious.

Pretty soon, one evening after Dad had come home from work, Mom came through the door.

I remember how Dad swept her up in his arms, laughing and crying all in one motion. Soon I was brought into the fold, pressed into Mom's arms like a gift. I was papping her face with my hand, a little grin on my face, but I was mostly using this as a chance to get a good look at her.

Her hair had lost its luster, and there were lines of exhaustion on her smiling face. Her eye where as bright as ever, a spark inside of them I didn't think would ever go away. They were such a warm gold, that I felt like the sun was shining on me everytime she looked at me. I could understand why Dad loved her.  
Even though her clothes were dirty, and fraying in some spots with clear patchwork in others. But it was Mom, a woman who had been fading from my memory but so alive in Dad's. I was glad to have her back.

"Yasu-kun! You're so big! Has your Daddy been taking good care of you?" Mom cooed, bouncing me in her arms.

"Ha-baa pff btt." Was my elegant reply, but I think she got my meaning, as her eyes met my own. (That was the first time I wondered what my own eye color was.)

Dad circled us both in his long, twiggy arms. "Yasu-kun here has been perfectly content, I'll have you know!" He grinned, bending low to press his face into Mom's neck. "We've missed you though. I've missed you." I barely caught his words, as muffled as they were.

Those words changed the mood in the room immediately. I ducked my own little head into Mom's chest, trying in vain to hide from the sadness that suddenly took over.

"I have to go, you know that. It's-"

"Your job, who you are. I know, I just worry."

Mom hummed at that, and we went about our life.

Taking pictures seemed to be Dad's new favorite pastime, as he always seemed to be snapping pictures at every opportunity. Mom spent most of her time with me, and as a result I stopped going to the daycare for a time. She got to know the pitfalls of my dietary habits, and the eternal struggle that was getting me OUT of a bath before I caught a cold by the cooling water. Being a little shit, I made sure no-one ever left that bathroom without getting as soaked as I had been.

Eventually the joy faded. The family meals and outings didn't last, because soon enough Mom left again, and Dad seemed to wither in her absence. I didn't miss her, not like Dad did, but my heart longed for my family to be whole and happy again.

I began to mark the passage of time by teeth. Two more teeth, and Mom was home again. Gone before the next two. Back after four more teeth.

She was gone more than she was home. (This was my normal, just me and Dad, in a bubble of our own making.)

I began to walk in earnest, toddling after Dad around the house. Once I got it down the first time, nobody could stop me, but Dad never once tried. Words spilled from my mouth more and more, pestering for one thing after another, mostly books to be honest. My first birthday was a small affair. I got a little party and treat at daycare, and a little celebration at home with Dad. I already knew my family was pretty insular, but that was a shock to me, for the first time realizing I had never meet a friend of my parents. Dad didn't seem to have any friends, and who even knew about Mom. For the most part, it was just us. I didn't see it as the warning it should have been.

I think, aside from me, Mom was Dad's whole life. He seemed to live solely for her, and by smaller margins, me. He thrived in her presence like a flower at bloom, and shriveled away when she wasn't. Oh sure, he tried, but I could see that he was weary and worried.

It was, after all, the Third Shinobi War, and Mom was off fighting it, leaving Dad alone clutching her letters to his chest every time they came.

There wasn't really anything of substance in my childhood aside from that. I learned to talk, but found no words to engage my Dad in any meaningful way. I walk better and better,until it was once more second nature. My teeth came in, I grew, Mom came and went. I learned to read and submerged myself. For all I knew this world to be one of ninja's, my life was entirely civilian.

I was barely four, when the War began to teeter to an end. Mom was home a little more often now, and Dad was looking better. I thought things were looking up. My hair was settling on a nice shade of cobalt blue, which was a pleasant and unexpected surprise, and I clearly inherited my eyes from Mom. Her's may have been warm gold, but I think mine were bright in contrast.

(Sometimes in my more playful moments of self indulgence, I grabbed Les the Surviorwolf and pretended we were werewolf brothers. I howled and prowled around the house, crafting tales of my own internal turmoil as one cursed by the moon itself. Other times, I pretended that this was my pack, my territory, and it must be protected. Dad would always laugh when he caught me. "Love you, baby boy." he would whisper as he put me to bed, a kiss to my forehead and Les tucked in beside me.)

I was excited the moment I fully realized what was happening, mind swirling with possibilities now that the war was ending and life was smooth out into something a little less patchwork.

I should have **known**. How many stories have I read in my two lives? How many fanfics OF those stories? I should have known that things would fall apart. What reincarnated life is ever portrayed as an easy one, after all?

Mom died as the war was ending, killed in one of the last skirmishes, on October 23rd.

(They came to the door, like in some old WW1 movie, dressed in uniform and faces burdened by the task given to them.)

Dad just…..broke, after that. He moved in silted steps, and no other color but black seemed to be in his immediate wardrobe. The funeral was obnoxiously sunny, and it was for the rest of the shinobi killed in recent times, not just Mom. I walked behind Dad to lay a flower before her picture, sniffling a little as I did so. After all, I would go an entire life without a mother now, with only memories of warm gold to haunt me at night.

Less then month later, the village was swarmed with the joy and celebration. The War was over, official and signed in piles of paperwork on November 17th.

Dad took me home in silence, his eyes empty, his actions and movements stilted and forced. Our house had been so silent and cold since Mom died, just stepping back inside through the doors felt like stepping into a graveyard. Dad fed me, kissed my head with a lovingly whispered 'Love you, baby boy.', and sent me off to sleep.

( dreamed that night, crystal clear and vibrant. Dad was laughing, swinging Mom around in his arms, kissing her for all he was worth. Mom looked sad, but I could see how her fingers clutched the front of his shirt. My father was so much taller than my mother, never more apparent than now. He towered over her, long arms suddenly stretching out around her. They twisted and snapped, clothing and skin melding together until they become wood. They embraced, and I watched as they melted together into a towering tree, growing unnaturally in speed as it climbed into the skies, bright red leaves glistening in the sun.

A moment, of peace, then panic. I cried soundlessly into the void around me, trying to call them back. They did not respond, did not call back. But the leaves fell, rain came, and suddenly I am alone in the eye of a hurricane. I keep screaming, but if any sound left my lips, it was eaten by the swirling red leaves.

I jerk awake, the darkness of my room a strangely comforting sensation compared to the red leaves of my dream. I think about sneaking into my Dad's bed with him, but I shake my head and open the window instead. I crawl back into bed, dream already fuzzy around the edges. (The next time I wake, I remember nothing of my dream, except for the feeling of loss and a storm of red around me.)

I found my father's body in a drying pool of blood in the morning.


	3. Orphans

Losing Mom was like a slap to the face. Sudden, and sharp in a way that left me reeling. But it didn't last, and faded to a bitter memory before long. I didn't feel her loss deep in my bones, purely because she was gone so often, and I barely knew her, in the long run. I knew her eyes, her smile and laugh. But I didn't know her struggles or sorrows, or anything that made her human. Perhaps being reborn had made me somewhat numb, because I felt like I should have been far more broken then I was when she died. (I felt numb about a lot of things now, so I shoved them down so deep that they got lost, and I thought of them no more.)

Losing Dad was **different**.

He was the one who took care of me. Who kissed my head every night, made my food and taught me to read. He was a man who loved with everything he was, whose loss and pain easy to see in every move he made. My Dad was an open book to me, I could read him as easily as I could the words in my book.

He was the man who loved mushrooms in his food, but always ate them away from me because he knew the smell irritated me. He was the one who sometimes refilled the bath with warm water for me so I could keep playing in the water, leaving only when my fingers and toes were wrinkled and pruny. He hoarded Mom's letters, but read to me only the good, to spare me. Nights when work was tough, and his shoulders sagged with the weight of the world, he made tea for us and let me read to him, patient with my mispronunciations and awkward readings.

He was effectively my whole world, my only human contact, seeing as I spent almost all my time at the daycare reading instead of trying to socialize, since at this age, all of my peers were **actually** four years old, unlike me. I spent those hours waiting for him to come back, because the world seemed to be on pause when he wasn't there.

Finding his body that morning pulled all the air from my body, leaving me frozen and helpless and gasping for the air stolen from my lungs.

I did the only thing I could think of, with my eyes starting to sting with warnings of things to come.

I rushed to him.

"Dad? Daddy!" I collapsed down next to him, hands shaking as I reached for him. Dad was leaning back against the kitchen sink, a knife scattered next to him, covered in blood from the gashes in his wrists. His skin was so pale, so cold. I almost couldn't bare to look at his face, his open eyes glazed and unseeing. The dishes in the sink were above him, half finished.

"Don't do this to me, please Dad." I cupped his head, the child in me desperately hoping my touch would revive him. It cold to the touch of the hand I had cradling his face. He did not awake. I burned under his unseeing gaze. I pressed my ear to his chest anyway, when I couldn't find a pulse in his neck.

"You meanie!" I cried, pushing my little face into his shirt. Oh, how I wished his arms would move and hug me again. "I know you loved Mom," I whispered, "...but didn't you love me to? Wasn't I enough?" My whole body was shuddering with the force of my tears and I collapsed into his lap, curling up tight against him.

I just wanted to feel safe, and Dad always made me feel safe. (His lap wasn't warm. His lap was always warm.)

Dad felt stiff under me. "Don't leave me alone...please don't leave me alone." I croaked. "I don't know why I'm here, I can't do this by myself."

That didn't change the fact that I was alone though.

Alone in a cold house with a corpse of a man who didn't love me enough to **stay.**

Eventually I spent all my tears, and pulled myself away from my once-father. I didn't know how long I had been there, but I was tired. So, so tired. By this point, my little set of matching light-blue pj's with tiny clouds on them, were covered by splotches of dark, sticky blood. (He used to love these pj's.)

I couldn't bring myself to care about my appearance, as I stood on my tiptoes to open the front door, and out onto the street.

It was early afternoon. We lived in a small house in the poorer area of the shinobi districts, where the half-shinobi, half-civilian families grouped together. As such, the closest house was barely 30 seconds from our...my, front door. By this point, people were milling about talking, walking to and from a thousand places I didn't care to know about.

Things happened rather fast after that, once the people on the street saw me. The first half-screamed announcement of 'Oh my god! alerted everyone in the area to my presence.

The Military Police came, I was ushered about here and there. At some point somebody got me cleaned up and into a fresh pair of clothes, but I couldn't remember who or when. Everything was a daze. I know I was asked questions, and that I answered, and that I was told things that I hadn't known before. But it all went over my head, because I was lost, and so alone.

At some point, someone escorted me back, shielding me from everything but my own room. Someone had argued against me going back inside within my earshot, but I had quietly interrupted and voiced my intention to go. (I still couldn't believe this, and despite the adults best attempts, I still looked past and saw the blood stained tiles. My father's corpse was gone.)

There, they helped me gather what clothes I could into a few garbage bags, leaving everything else behind. Everything but the most minimal of the details of that day faded to a blur. I was escorted somewhere, and shown a single bed in a room of many. They set my bags down, forced some food into me, then, blessedly, they let me sleep.

"Yasu-chan! Can you say Daddy? Come on baby boy, can you say Daddy?"

"Come here, Yasu-chan! Daddy's going to show you how to prepare mackerel! Did you know Daddy does this for work? Come here, Yasu-chan, Daddy's going to teach you everything he knows."

"Yasu-chan! You're growing so tall, baby boy! Mom will be so surprised when she comes home…."

"Yasu-chan!~"

"That's my boy! Look at you, so grown up, my precious baby boy."

"Yasu-chan."

"Goodnight, Yasu-chan. Daddy loves you, baby boy."

My dreams tormented me that night. Memories of a father who loved so deeply, but never enough. I twisted and turned, waking up with quiet sobs time and time again, stifling what I could and burying the rest in my rough pillow, until I fell asleep and it started all over again.

The next morning, I was woken gently by a boy a little older than me. His silver hair hung around his head, bangs tickling the large circular glasses that covered gentle eyes. (He pitied me, this I knew.) I was groggy, tired from sleep that wasn't at all restful. I blinked up at him, and let him tug me away with a gentle grip from the rest of the sleeping children in the large main room. I followed silently, mind rebooting from it's dead state, until I was pulled into a large cafeteria that reminded me immensely of a middle school lunchroom.

When the boy pressed a cup of something warm into my hands, interrupting my absentminded rubbing of the hand he had held as I sat at a table, I finally realized who was in the room with me. I came alive like a switch, jerking to attention as my fingers gripped the cup for dear life.

It was Kabuto. Tiny, pre-Root, pre-Orochimaru, Kabuto.

With his big glasses, the shaggy silver hair that fell around his soft features looked like some sort of halo. He looked pure in face, looking at me like I was a fragile, broken child. (And I was, wasn't I?) He, along with a woman with long honey-hair and squarish glasses, were wearing black robes with white, were waiting patiently for me to gather my thoughts. I knew them, even if I had never met them.

There were other adults moving around in the background, but they didn't matter to me. Kabuto did, as did Nonō. A boy who would become a man of terror, a spy and villain to Konoha, and later, in the end, an ally. A woman whose history and later death would impact the boy beside her.  
I was still shaking, but Kabuto moved away with one last look, as Nonō sat down in front of me. She reaching a hand out to still my own shaking one's, pushing slightly so the tea would rest on the table and not spill. I jerked away from her, and hid my hands in my lap. She let me, with a sad, pained smile.

"Hello, I'm the Mother here. What's your name?" She asked, and I knew deep in my gut that she already knew. Why wouldn't she? She would have been informed yesterday before I ever even arrived. (I wondered how many people knew my name after yesterday. I wondered how long it would be until they all forgot me.)

"Yasu." I murmured, shifting unhappily. "But you know that. I'm here cause Dad's gone, right? This is an orphanage." If she was startled by my blunt response, she didn't show a fraction of it, only pity colored her features.

"Yes, that's right Yasu-kun. I'm afraid everything moved very fast yesterday, didn't it? How are you doing?" She pressed, hands folded over themselves on the table. She looked the part of a motherly matron, fitting for her current position.

I frowned, looking away. "That question is stupid." I bit out, lifting my arms onto the table, folding over each other, and ducked my head down. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be home, with Dad. With his abundance of love and his warm lap. I couldn't go back. I could **never** go back.

Nonō, and I wasn't about to call her 'Mother' even in my head, reached out, hand nearing my head and I ducked down further away from her touch. I didn't know her, didn't want her touch to stick to my skin, and be forced to rub it away. I was used to Dad's touch. I didn't want to get used to her's. I didn't want to get used to anybodies anymore.

Nonō only took part of the hint, as she got up to kneel beside me on my side of the table. Luckily, she didn't touch me, but I still turned my head in the other direction in my arms so I didn't have to see her. I was allowed to be difficult right now.

"I know you're in pain right now, Yasu-kun. I can't take that away, but I'm here to help you. Everyone here is, and many of them understand what it's like to lose their parents. You won't ever be alone here." I peeked at her, and her soft smile made my stomach curl. I pressed my head back into my arms.

Her words felt like a lie. A honey-coated lie, all dressed up to make it go down easy.

"What's gonna happen 'ta me?" I mumbled instead, fingers digging into the soft fabric of my shirt. (But it wasn't my shirt.)

"You'll stay here, with me, and Kabuto-kun, and everyone else. You'll be safe, I promise. We don't have much, I'll be the first to admit. But that bed you slept in will be yours, and you'll have a chest for your clothes. And lots of other kids will be around for you to play with, when you're ready. Does that sound ok, Yasu-kun?" She asked. I knew what answer she wanted.

"Yeah, okay." A lie, honey-coated to make it go down easy.

And just like that my life as an orphan began, and god, I was so sick of starting new lives.

For the first few days, Kabuto and a boy I knew was Urushi, seemed to run interference for me with the other kids.

They weren't the oldest kids in the orphanage, but Kabuto seemed to gather a bit of respect as Nonō's shadow, and Urushi was perhaps his dearest friend. Slowly, the novelty of me being new faded. I was set to the routine the rest of the children my age endured. A few mild chores, and a few lessons with the other workers of the orphanage, of which there weren't many. Day's passed me by at a snail's pace.

I did cause a bit of a rift with some of the other kids early on, given that I never referred to Nonō as 'Mother'. Rather, I respectfully called her 'Oba-san'. A few of the kids, including Urushi didn't like it, given as they viewed everyone as part of their family. The only one they had. But Oba-san only smiled, and hushed the children. A few of the other children nodded in understanding, as they to remembered their own parents before their individual tragedies. It was turbulent, not helped at all by the fact that I still wasn't sleeping well, and constantly on edge.

It was like I had been reincarnated all over again. Thrown into a new life yet again with no clue as to what to do.

I looked around me, and found despite Oba-san's declaration of me not being alone here, that I was more alone than ever. I looked around and felt no connection to anybody. I couldn't bring myself to chat with the children around me, introverted tendencies of my old life rearing their ugly head worse than before. I jerked from everyone's touch, which confused and frustrated many of my peers. I wasn't about to try to bond with Kabuto. I knew he would be leaving soon anyway, since ROOT had taken him young, and besides, I knew the fragile mind that was lying beneath his soft eyes.

He felt like a landmine to me, and I was fearful.

For a while, I thought I would waste away here, with nothing of real substance to do.

All of that was minor in comparison to the real problem. I was still hurting from Dad's suicide.

My sleep was haunted by memories. I didn't dream so much about finding his body. I dreamed of his voice, his persistent lessons on fish preparation. I dreamed of forehead kisses, and reading Mom's letters after diner with a small, warm cup of Hojicha tea. I dreamed of the look of fond exasperation on his face when I refused to get out of the bath, of how he learned quickly that bath time for me meant he was gonna get a bath to, given my love of the water. The simple things of our once shared life taunted me.

Going to the market on Sundays, moving from his hip to the ground with my hand in his to guide me. His patience as he taught me to read, his clear, smooth voice as he guided me through each word. I didn't spend too much time savoring my time spent with Dad before. I took him for granted, assuming as a civilian he would be there for me for years to come.

But now I was the one missing him, now I wilted in his absence. Except I had no letters, no hope of him ever returning. I only had the aching hole in my cold, numb heart.

He was my world, but his was Mom. I took more after my father then I thought, we both loved someone else with everything that we were.

My sleep haunted me, but at least it was still effective, for the most part. It gave me energy each morning, but I was sinking into a depression, and I knew it because that sucked whatever energy I started each day with away. I could put a name to the depression, but I couldn't stop it. This time, I didn't have a little daily pill box to help correct my brain, and I suppose even in reincarnation my brain patterns remained the same. I fell into predictable, pre-reincarnation routines and coping strategies.

Reading.

I took whatever few books the orphanage offered, and read them. Over and over, the same books again and again. A few basic story books, with worn and ripped pages. Nothing of substance.

But they gave me a world to escape to. A place where I had never died, and never lived to see all my loved one's die.

Of Course, one had to have the perfect reading place, good book or not. I moved from spot to spot, leaving when one became too well known as a place to find me, or to easy to be stumbled upon. I had recently decided to move from a small stump in what was considered the backyard of the orphanage, to a rock I deemed suitable in the front.

I was trying to climb said rock, tiny arms gripping the stone in a pathetic attempt to reach the top and a book stuffed in my shirt, for the first time one sunny afternoon. It wasn't very high, but it was a smooth little 'bolder', and it was my new chosen spot, so this was going to happen whether the rock liked it or not. It has optimum sun-catching position, and damn it all, it was perfect for my purposes.

I, predictably, fell onto my ass. Tiny toddler arms were not designed to be climbing a rock the same size as said toddler. My arms went out to the side as I slipped, my left forearm catching most of me as I came into contact with the ground. Nobody seemed to notice my fall, since I was the only one out front right now, which I was happy for. My arm hurt, but I didn't think much of it until I prepared to start again.

I found a little trail of blood trickling down to my elbow when I reached out to start my second attempt. Curious, and a little stunned, I twisted my arm around to look.  
It wasn't bad, just a little gash leaking blood, with dirt and tiny pebbles decorating it. I pouted. It didn't really hurt right now, probably shock or something. Still, I did what I had always done when I got hurt.

I tried to solve it myself.

I didn't want to bug anybody for a little cut. It wasn't like it was going to kill me. A little antiseptic and a bandage and I'd be right as rain.

Honestly, the biggest problem was going to be getting to the first aid supplies without alerting anyone and causing a fuss. Not only was getting fussed over and inevitably touched a big 'No' on my to-do list, but I had dealt with worse then this last time around. If I could cut my finger cooking, quick wrap it with a towel I didn't care about, and keep cooking 'til I reached a point where I could leave it alone without risking my product and thus tend my wound, then I could deal with a darn scratch.

Well, it wasn't like I had to go immediately, right?

I frowned, looking around. My shirt was light green right now, and my pants a dark shade of gray. The shirt was a no go, and I wasn't going to risk wiping the blood off with any of the foliage around. The pants could work though. Looking down, I checked the fabric at the back of my heel. It wasn't really frayed at all, a problem I'd always had 'before', so I wasn't going to rip any fabric off if it wasn't already hanging by a thread.  
Still, the gray pants would be the best for cleaning things up right now. Setting at the base of the rock, I shifted into criss-cross position, angling my arm down to rub gently at the very bottom edge of my pants, where the fabric was dry and clean. The discoloration would be the least noticeable there too, so bonus.

Of Course, that only solved the blood trickling down my arm problem. The wound itself was still dripping. I found licking the wound every few seconds kept most of the blood away and not dripping.

When in doubt, lick it. Probably terrible advice, but fuck it hadn't always worked for me. My blood was like copper and salt. All men bled the same, after all. Copper and salt, copper and salt. So, I bent my arm to be more comfortable, shook my book out from under my shirt, and decided to sit at the foot of my rock for today, managing the little book with one hand as I practiced my reading, and resting my other arm as comfortably as I could as I routinely licked it.

I stopped eventually, long after the bleeding had finally stopped as I realised I wasn't tasting blood. I went about my afternoon as usual, reading my book again and again. When I was done, sun no longer warm on my face, I went back inside, and put the book away, and made my way towards the 'nurses' station.

Given that Oba-san was proficient enough in medical jutsu and healing to turn the Orphanage into a makeshift war hospital, and in turn teach whatever of her 'children' who wanted to learn, the nurses station was always well maintained, and usually had one or two people in it. I peeked in past the door, and I saw Oba-san and a few other people working on something and talking in low voices. I frowned, and considered leaving. Still, everyone looked predictably busy, and mostly all in one area. I slipped in, and carefully creeped towards some of the cabinets. I grabbed what I needed as quietly as I could, and sat down on the floor, hidden from immediate view by a trash can. Being small was a bonus when it came to sneaking.

My fingers were small and stubby right now, and the bandages I was used to weren't really the same here. Everything always seemed to be wrapped up with roll bandages. Still, the principle of first aid was still the same. Rub some antiseptic ointment on, place a small square piece of softer fabric designed to protect the immediate wound, and wrap everything up to keep it in place.

I was doing fine. I really was. I had the ointment and the protecting layer on, some bandages cut from the roll in an estimated length, and really all I needed was to figure out how to properly tie everything so it stayed and didn't constantly loosen up. It wasn't like I was surrounded with wasted bandages or ointment, my little area was well maintained, thank you very much.

Still, Oba-san found me with a startled, "Yasu-kun!" I glanced up, and winced. Too late however, as she was already fussing and kneeling down, hands reaching out for my arm.

"'M fine Oba-san!" I protested, tugging my arm away as quickly as I could. Her fingers brushed my arm, and the feel of it sent horrid tingles down my spine. I hated it, and wanted it gone.

"Yas-"

I started spewing words uncontrollably at this point, trying desperately to stop her from speaking. "I gots ointment, an-and some meshy soft stuff to protect it from the wrappin! 'M Fine! 'Snot bleeding anymore anyway!" My words never came out right, and the panic building didn't help.

Her face was sad, pained. "Yas-" I still didn't let her finish.

"I wasn't waste'n anything! Promise! I would'a let it 'lone, but everybody talks 'bout infe-" I was stumbling over my words here. I couldn't pronounce it right and my mind couldn't form it and I just started blurting out the same beginning sounds, my mind short-circuiting. I was panicking and I knew it. God, why now of all times?!

"Yasu-" Oba-san's voice was getting firmer now, and she reached out her hands to my shoulders, and god, her hands felt like lead weights.

"Infe-fe-In-" I shook my head as if to physically throw the word away, finally forcing myself to chose another word. "Dirty! Ery'body talks 'bout'm being dirty!" I think I was crying now, damn. I tried to wiggle out of her gentle touch but I had no room.

"YASU!" I blinked. I had never heard Oba-san yell before. I stilled, tears falling and snot bubbling from my nose, and I briefly looked over her shoulder at the gathering of people. "It's fine, you're ok Yasu-kun. Can you take a deep breath for me?" I looked at her again, shifting my right arm up to push her hands away, but taking a deep breathe anyway. (I could feel her touch on my shoulders, even with them gone now. It stuck to my skin, and it was wrong, that wasn't what the rest of my skin felt like, I didn't want it, I wanted it gone, it wasn't right.)

Thankfully, she must have got the hint because she didn't touch me again. Still, she guided my breathing until it was smooth and steady, until the tears were gone and I could whip my nose in some manner of calm. The touch on my shoulders still clung, so after my nose was clean, I rubbed each of my shoulders roughly, not meeting her eyes. Shame replaced the panic.

"'M fine." I muttered. I heard Oba-san sigh. I also noticed people had cleared out of the room. A small mercy.

"It's ok, Yasu-kun. May I see your arm?" I frowned, but complied, removing the uncompleted bandages and peeling back everything so she could peek.

She hummed, looking it over. "It doesn't look bad at all, and you did a very good job taking care of it so far." Her eyes met mine, and I shifted uncomfortably. "Yasu-kun, why didn't you come to anyone to take care of this for you? We could have healed it, no need for any of this." I knew immediately that I couldn't bullshit an answer to get out of here faster, not with the way she was looking at me. Honesty it seems, would be the forced policy of the day.

"I didn't wanna bug anybody 'bout it….it's not that bad...An...And I don't like being touched, and I know you woulda fussed…" I looked at my feet, tiny little toes peeking out of my sandals. I was so small now...so small….

"Dad's….gone now. It's just me. 'N I know you let evrrybody call you Mother….but I didn't really even know mine…'Snot fair to her….'n, 'n I'm alone now, so I gots to be able to take care of myself." I ended my little confession on a determined note, looking up. I could see she was going to protest, and she did.

"You're not alone Yasu-kun-" I didn't let her get any further.

"But I am!" I could feel little swells of anger bubbling up. I may have been an adult in mind, but I was a child in body and all that entailed. I may be very well spoked for a 4 year old, but I was still dealing with a child's emotional imbalance and lack of mature restraint beyond my own thought process.

"I dun like touch, an the other kids are to bouncy, and they dunt like that I call you Oba-san! Dad was all I had, 'n now he's gone an 'm alone. Have'n people round willing to be nice and have'n friends or, or people you trust are different things, Oba-san. 'N they don't got no reason to trust me either, I can't do anything….I can't even take care of 'mself." I was shaking a little bit, but Oba-san thankfully didn't reach out to me. I could see the pain in her eyes, I could see that she didn't know what to do in that moment.

I wasn't like the other kids, and now it was blatantly clear to her I think. I spoke to well, was to independant. Too smart for my (physical) age, to resistant to the methods that had worked with the other kids. In this life, my old problems and disorders hadn't really taken hold until I was older, but I could feel their hooks in me again.

Oba-san spent a few moments looking lost, before her eyes hardened. I think in that moment, I saw the former ROOT agent she had been lurking just under the steel in her eyes.

"Well." She began, standing up. I grew fearful, hand starting to twitch and shake. "I guess it's time to change that. Let's pick all this up, and move off the floor. I'll teach you how to wrap that up, Yasu-kun. Do you want to learn how to take care of yourself, Yasu-kun?" She asked me. I think she meant more than she was saying, however.

"Yes please, Oba-san. I don't want 'nybody to have to take care of me anymore. I wanna be strong'nuff to take care of myself."

Another milestone in my young life was passed that day. Oba-san started by teaching me first aid, and starting me on some chakra control exercises. She gave me something to do, something to work towards, and I started to thrive a little bit, in my own little world.

Then Kabuto left, and I realized that I wasn't just learning what I was learning for nothing. Oba-san was providing me with a head start for ninja-life. I hadn't even considered being a Shinobi before Kabuto stood in front of everyone one day, choosing to leave to help all those he left behind. I sort of forgot about it, as crazy as that seemed. Real shinobi just weren't part of my daily life.

Watching Kabuto make that decision to leave and do something with himself, for the sake of the people he loved, I knew I had to do the same but for different reasons. Why was I alive, why was I here, if not to be a shinobi? If not to challenge the status quo, and try to change the lives of the characters I had loved in a past life, to change them for the better?

The next day, when everyone was lost and frustrated over the loss of one of their own, I threw my little body into what training I knew how to do, with a private resolve to learn the training methods I didn't.

I dug down deep, as deep as I could, and pulled steel into my spine. I was going to be something, do something. I wasn't going to waste away.

I had work to do.


	4. Like Weeds

So, let's go over some things here.

To start, I was still 4, and very tiny. But, I was also in very good health. In my last life, exercise usually meant walking my big dog, when I got her anyway, since my small dog just didn't have the stamina for a good walk. Before that, it was non-existent. I'd had surgery on my knees when I was a young teen, and they continued to bother me until my death, meaning I practically never ran, didn't jog, and hated stairs. My stamina for anything outside of a walk was….basically I didn't have any stamina unless it involved walking absurd distances and distracting myself with music.

Now, however, I had a younger, healthier (male) body. I think people in this world were generally just built sturdier then in my (old) world, too. I had a child's stamina, a mind that was fresh and still growing and developing, but still hiding away the consciousness of a newly twenty-one adult, which probably forced certain aspects of my new brain to develop faster. I had the opportunity to do everything and be everything that I had always wanted to be, physically. My hair was blue, no dye required. I would never have to worry again about the possibility of binders or top surgery, my chest would remain flat. My knees were good, letting me run and move freely.

I took ahold of this opportunity with both hands, digging deep. I had always done better with a schedule, with routine. Dad provided my first routine, keeping me occupied and thus busy.  
When he passed, I lost that. Oba-san's lessons brought that back, and motivated me to push for more. I asked the older kids, the one's in the academy already, if they could train me a little bit.

After all, mastery is being able to teach someone else, isn't it?

They were mostly amused, but my determination and persistence, mostly in not abandoning the work they did give me, made them happy. I think the older kids liked that I was "coming out of my shell", so to speak. Besides, the Academy entrance age requirement was 5, so it was just giving me a leg up for when I joined the Spring Rotation classes.

Training what amounts to a toddler isn't easy. It involves a ton of stretching, all the time, and mostly just running around the yard as long as I could. Endurance and flexibility was the name of the game for now. When I told Oba-san of my intentions, she sat me down for a long conversation.  
If I did too much, I would risk damaging my body, but if I didn't push then I was risking becoming a burden in the future. So, I ran and I stretched. My Senpai's promised me that once my general conditioning was a bit better, they'd be able to start me on some proper exercises and basic taijutsu forms.  
So, in the mornings after breakfast but before classes the older kids, my Senpai's that is, would go through stretches with me, and set me off running til I couldn't anymore, with instructions to stay hydrated. After that, I would get cleaned up, and join in Oba-san's lessons. Not everyone could do medical jutsu, so physical first aid was a big focus for those without the chakra control or capacity.  
I had chakra, in small amounts because of the whole toddler thing, but I had it. I could still remember it forming inside me before I was born, remembered the feel from before it faded beneath the surface and became normal, remembered tracing it in my mind.

So when Oba-san started to teach me about it, I was quick on the uptake.

It took a moment of focus, to shift through myself and find it again, but once I did, it stayed with me, like a switch had been flipped and I was always aware of it. My chakra felt...solid, I suppose. Oh sure, it flowed through me and I could manipulate it in the most basic of ways (hello, leaf exercise), but that didn't change how it felt. It was solid to me, heavy and reassuring.

Strong.

Really, it took some of the fear away of using this new power and learning about it more. When I started the leaf exercise, I was terrible. Leaves were thrown from my hand like tiny projectiles, or just fell off. As aware as I was of my chakra now that I reached out to it, I was still learning about it. How much did this, how much did that, the force and control required to even do what I wanted it to.

But like all things, with the passage of time, I grew and got better. Children grow like weeds after all.

I turned 5 with a small amount of fanfare from my Senpai's and the rest of the orphanage. With a few months short of a year of daily training under my belt, I was doing great, thank you very much.

I had progressed to being able to hold 8 leaves on each hand. One for each of my little fingers, and three for the back of my hand. I was making myself little gauntlets, and screw everyone else, I thought they were badass, for being leaves. Sure, I could manage to spin a leaf or make it hover over my hand a bit, but that took paying attention. I could settle my leaves on my hands in the morning after stretches, and go running. Birds, meet stone. It served to decimate my growing little pool of chakra, so it could replenish itself and grow bigger the next day.

I wouldn't always be able to train like this, so I made use of my time well I had it. Chakra replenishment rates seemed to be a general sort of thing, so emptying one's reserves well they were tiny would help to rapidly boost the capacity of one's coils early on, before natural growth rates really kicked in later on.

Aside from my rapidly growing flexibility and stamina, I had also been approved to start on things like resistance training with some rubber-like ropes, and more general sorts of exercises that would be the standard of first year academy students when I joined. Felt kinda silly, to be doing such mundane exercises when trying to become a ninja, oh well. I think Oba-san hoped my own dedication might inspire other kids, but I practiced alone day after day.

An older boy named Itsuki, who was in his final academy year and months away from graduation seeing as he was 9 now, was teaching me the beginnings of the Academy's taijutsu 'style'. Itsuki had brown eyes and black hair slicked back and curling into little spikes. He reminded me a little bit of a hedgehog, actually. Itsuki-senpai was one of the only kids in the orphanage to be graduating come October, and seeing as he was comfortably around the middle of his graduating class, was less worried about the upcoming exam then some of the others. Seeing as Itsuki-senpai would be leaving after he graduated, we didn't have a lot of time.

The thing was, the village payed for orphans to attend the academy.  
In return, they were sworn to 10 years of military service, guaranteed, pass or fail. If they got a Jonin-sensei, then good, that was the original goal. If they failed to become proper Genin, then they would go for remedial training and become part of the system in less combat oriented ways. The ninja equivalent of janitors, office drones, Etc.

Working in shinobi occupied buildings, and generally being a reserve force in case of emergencies. This was actually an option to all failures of the academy, and many ended up taking it, simply because it was guaranteed work.

It also meant, that upon becoming a proper Genin, or joining the 'reserves', the village considered them 'adults', and as such they could no longer live in the orphanage as a permanent resident. There were actually apartment complexes dedicated to this. A few complexes of simple one bedroom housing for reserve forces and Genin forces. It was mostly used by older Genin, or reserves, who hadn't progressed properly to Chunin and thus higher income, or by Genin without families to live with until they were old enough to move out. I, personally, had a strong opinion that this was where Naruto would one day live.

Itsuki assured me that the first 3 months of rent were paid by the Village, so everyone could get their bearings and be able to save a bit before paying rent. Still, I worried for him a bit. He was, by far, my favorite among my senpai's. It seemed….callous, almost to send 9 and 10 year olds to live alone. Irresponsible. Then again, these kids were being taught to kill, and would. Some perhaps might even make their first kills within a year, depending on what kinds of missions they got.

But all of that was a side thought, really. One I didn't really want to think about, actually.

Our main focus was taijutsu, not worrying about the future. The Academy 'style' was less of a formal style, and more like a solid foundation of basics, of which could be built upon into more intense, and complicated, forms and styles. Itsuki-senpai taught me the proper stances and moves, how to kick and punch, the basics of making one's attacks flow. At first our lessons were stances and forms. By September, Itsuki was thoroughly trashing me in some light sparring, correcting my movements and the like as he went. For a 9 year old, he was a pretty good teacher. From his enthusiasm about the whole thing, I had a sneaking suspicion about his career aspirations. After all, he did really admire his Sensei at school, from what I've gathered.

"Yasu-kun, you're over extending your arm again." Itsuki corrected me as he deflected my punch, a leg going out to trip me a bit. "Remember, think with your whole body. You can't focus on each attack separately, always be thinking about your next moves as you begin your current attack."

I struggled to catch myself in a clumsy cartwheel (boy had that been fun to learn) as I fell from Itsuki's 'punch', before springing right back into action. "Sorry Itsuki-senpai." This time I managed to not overextend my punch, and pulled a quick kick to his gut as he deflected my punch. He dodged the kick to, the asshole.

"Having fun yet?" Itsuki teased, flipping me over onto my back after a failed lunge.

"Nope, still not fun." I griped, shaking dust out of my ratty grey training-tank before settling back into a starting position.

"Mmmh." He hummed. "Taijutsu is very important, Yasu-kun. It's vital to every shinobi." God, not another lecture!

"Itsuki-senpai," I cut him off, "it's not that I don't think it's not important! Cause it is! I just think ranged and surprise attacks would be much more efficient." Punch, punch, kick-, hello again dirt, how've you been?

"So you don't like fighting me head on, is that it?" Itsuki summed up, reaching a hand out to pull me up, signaling an apparent break in our evening workout.

"Yeah! 'Sides, I'm so small and you're so big, it seems like a stupid idea to just rush in." Not to mention the 4 years of training Itsuki had on his side of things.

He raised a thin eyebrow at me. "I don't think Mother would appreciate me giving you some shuriken and kunai to train with."

I paused, frowning in thought. Kunai and shuriken weren't a bad idea. They were staples in a shinobi's arsenal after all. Still...I was a creature of habit. I would always default to certain things, no matter how often I did them. When it came to weaponry in games, I always ended up an archer.  
But that seemed impractical, when you took into account having to carry arrows around.

In all of Naruto, I could only remember one person using a bow. That spider-esc guy that almost killed Neji when they went after Sasuke's dumb ass. (It was a miracle I even saw that dude use the bow after having summoned those spiders. Arachnophobia was a bitch, even when it came to cartoon spiders.)  
Still...greater range, more power….and, didn't I see some guy who was running around like a badass with a bow in a video once?

I lived in a world where people did the impossible. I was a new person outgrowing my old mold, wasn't I? A new body, new name, new everything really. I had a chance to do everything I'd always wished I could. If I didn't try, I wouldn't know for sure. I was making this choice for me, if I was going to dedicate my life to fucking up time-lines, then damnit, I was going to do it my own way.

A deeper, darker part of me wanted to be as different from the old me as I could. I didn't want to look in the mirror and be reminded of who I had been. Too many nights as a baby had been spent crying, mourning...My friends….my family….my hopes and dreams-

I couldn't go down that path again. (Couldn't think about how those memories didn't make me feel anything anymore.) Straightening my back, I stared Itsuki down, steel forming to help me stand tall.

"A bow would be prefered." I finally declared. Itsuki looked at me like I was an idiot, completely flabbergasted.

"A...bow? Like, bow and arrows?" He was speaking slowly, like he had misheard me.

"Yep!" I pushed on. "It gives better range then kunai, not to mention faster too. Atleast, if I do it right. Probably." Not important right now.

"If I start now, I bet I could get really fast on the draw and become just as good with my aim. Sides! Nobody expects a bow, an, an" My mind was starting to whirl with possibilities, long buried thoughts resurfacing and actually having a point to them, "I bet I could learn how to modify it! Like, the arrows and the bow! Special arrow tips would give different properties and uses, and I bet I could learn some seals or something to do it! Wasn't the Yellow Flash really good with seals?!" I was bouncing with excitement.  
"And stealth! If I learn how to hide really well, then that provides an whole new range of stratie-stra-stra-" Itsuki opened his mouth to help, but I smacked him in the chest with my flail-y little arm to stop him. "Strategic!" Ha! Take that, brain! "Strategic options on the field! Course, I'd have to have something close combat oriented incase somebody gets close, or if long range isn't an option!" I was breathing heavily from my little onslaught of words, and Itsuki looked amused.

"Is. The Hokage really IS good with seals. He didn't just lose that when he took the hat from the Third you know." Itsuki sounded amused, but I felt myself go cold.

I hadn't realized he would still be alive. For some reason, the Kyuubi attack completely skipped my memory. How long after the war ended was Naruto born? I had no idea, but Itsuki kept talking and I forced myself to pay attention, for now.

"Well, I'll talk to Mother. I bet we could figure something out for you! You seem really excited about this bow idea of yours." His lips quirked in amusement, and I forced myself to match it with my own. "But that's good! Passion is motivation! Though…" he drawled, "don't think this is going to get you out of taijutsu training."

"Nyeh!" I stuck my tongue out at him playfully, and just like that, practice resumed.

Still, for the rest of the day after Itsuki let me go from practice, my mind swirled, trying to figure out the timeline. As Oba-san had me practice sutures on a banana of all things, I let my mind fall away and think. I had no idea about the timeline between the war and the Nine Tail's attack.

Was it a year? Two? I had no idea, but I also knew I was coming up on a year since Mom and Dad's would be only a month later in November. It was mid September now, so I didn't have long. Maybe….maybe Naruto wouldn't be born just yet? Damn! Why couldn't I remember these little details? Had it really been so long since last time I looked into the beginning of that manga, and not the end?  
Who was the oldest of the Konoha 11? Had they been born yet? The Orphanage didn't really keep up with a lot of the popular clan gossip, or at least, those that knew didn't talk about it.

That night, I twisted and turned in my bed. My rustling made some of the other boys near me gripe, but eventually they fell asleep and I was left alone to my thoughts.

I knew just about nothing about the timeline between the attack and Naruto's graduation. Sure there was the Uchiha Massacre, but other then that? Nothing. I was headed towards a shrouded canvas of time, and I had no way to see past it. I was born too late to make a difference with Kakashi or Obito, and probably still too early to make an impact on Naruto. I didn't even know if I'd live long enough to meet him. I was expected to graduate in approximately 4 years after joining the Academy. If Naruto was born this year...he'd be about 4 when I (hopefully) became a Genin.  
That would mean 8 years before he became a Genin. 8 years in which I could die, even in peacetime. 8 years to make something of myself before the Plot began to rear its ugly head.

I didn't know if I would be ready.

I threw myself into Taijutsu with a passion I had never had before. Those next few days after my realization I spent aggressively pushing myself in my training with Itsuki. He was surprised, but pleased.

A week later, Oba-san and Itsuki presented me with a small, asymmetrical bow, and a dozen arrows. It was old, and worn looking. The feathers on the end of the arrow a little frayed with use.

It was clearly used, but it worked, and I was grateful.


	5. Breathe In

I threw myself into work with my bow as if I was in a frenzy.

It was a short bow, maybe a meter long. Still, it was about the same size as I was at the moment. Oba-san said it was a Yumi Hankyu bow, which I didn't know much about personally. Still every moment I wasn't training with Itsuki, or Oba-san, or even doing chores of some sort in the Orphanage, I was out with my bow, shooting at some old mattresses that Oba-san was going to throw away since she had just gotten a donation to buy new ones. I made circles all over the ratty thing of varying sizes to use as target points.

Really, I wasn't working on aim specifically. For now, I was working on making my notching smooth, even without looking, and building the muscles I would need to work a bow with any power. I didn't really have anything to use as a quiver, since whoever sold Oba-san the bow hadn't included one. So I held the arrows in my hand. I experimented a lot at first with how to hold or notch the arrows in a comfortable and useful manner.

Traditionally from my knowledge, arrows notched on the left side of the bow, and we drew it back with fingers on the right side. Still, that meant it took a few motions to be able to fire an arrow, which meant more time. If I was going to make this weapon an actual threat, I'd need to be fast. Speed was critical in the shinobi world. So I notched my arrows on the right side of the bow, and eliminated those extra motions. A single, smooth motion to notch and draw. Of course, my speed and aim right now was nothing to be proud of. I was barely days into my training with this bow, and it would take a long time before I was anything even close to a threat with it.

I spent a long time, that first day, trying to remember every about that video I saw once, with the badass archer. (The longer I thought, the more easily and clearly the memories came. It didn't seem natural.) I remember his moving, and running. Firing from every conceivable position, even midair.

So that's how things went.

The best way to train the muscles for my bow usage was simply drawing the bow, so I spent a lot of time doing that to. Drawing, and slowly letting it return to its starting point, since blank-firing didn't seem smart, and I didn't want to break my bow, much less the string.

When I ran, I ran with my bow in my hand, or in various places on my body to see which would be the best place long term. So far, securing it to my lower back, along my left hip, seemed the best. If I had my arrows on my right, I could draw those and pull the bow out with my left, letting me start firing faster than if I was holding my bow on my back like in the movies.

When I ran with it in my hands, I practiced drawing and pointing it without breaking stride. It was hard, but I kept pushing. If I stopped, I was dead.

I also decided to use Itsuki as a sounding board for future arrow ideas.

"Itsuki-senpai! What about poisons?" I asked, going through my morning stretchings.

"What about them? They're very useful, though Konoha shinobi don't make as much use of them, unless they're medic-nin's. I think Ken-sensei said the puppet users of Suna like to employ poisons too." Itsuki was stretching to, though his were much more complex than mine.

"Well, I could coat my arrows with'm. OH! What about a breakable arrowhead, that would like, explode or release a cloud of poisonous gas? I bet a combination of materials could do that! Like, the inside of the arrow had a separator or something, with a mixture of things that go boom when they interact! Or they cause poisons to evaporate and enter the air like a smoke bomb!" I may or may not have spent a long time yesterday thinking about arrowheads as I was shooting my bow.

"An exploding tag around the wood of the arrow would work just as well." Isuki reminded me. "Probably easier to work with to. The poison seems like a nice idea, but all of this is dependant on you finding and attacking them first. What if you're the one being attacked by an enemy? Hmmm?"

I rolled my eyes. "First of all! I bet you could have more control over the blast then if it was just a tag, a smaller boom that is, but you do have a point about the tag being easier." I got up, rolling my shoulders, shaking them out after the stretches, and prepared for 'sparring'.

"I don't think my bow would be entirely useful in close combat like that, the poisons might if my future teams know how to work around it. I'ma probably need to find something secondary for head on fighting." I looked at Itsuki with a gleam in my eyes. "That's what I have you for, Senpai!"

Itsuki laughed, throwing his arm out to lightly punch my arm. Most everybody in the Orphanage knew I didn't like being touched much, but that I could work around it if it was in a spar. Itsuki usually gave me a light punch to the shoulder as his form of affection. I didn't really give out any affection of my own, except for when I butted my head to Itsuki's shoulder and rubbed up and down a little bit. 'Like a cat', Itsuki would say. I knew other people who used to say that to…but I felt nothing when I thought of it.

Either way, Itsuki and I proceeded with the rest of our routine. Him kicking my ass, and me trying to get better. I was making progress….slowly, anyway. Itsuki got his real practice in at school, and with the other orphans his age in the evenings.

The first day of October came and went, and I began counting down the days, praying to whoever may have been listening that Naruto wasn't born for another year.

By the 3rd, Oba-san had to call me in from my little archery range due to how dark it was getting and how long I'd been out there. She scolded me a little bit for staying outside so late, but I let her words roll over my shoulders like water droplets.

By the 5th, I started to have nightmares, waking up shaking with sweat. I kept trying to drive my little body into the dust so I'd be too tired to dream. It didn't work.

The 7th had me badgering some of the older kids aside from Itsuki for more help in taijutsu. A few took me up on it, hesitantly. I think they were starting to get worried.

When the 9th came, I think most of the older kids and staff were worried. Oba-san had to force me away from the windows by the front door, and into bed. She even gave me something, forcing me into sleeping.

Then the 10th came.

When I finally came to that morning, it was already around 9am. Itsuki and the other kids in the Academy were already gone to classes, so not only was my routine thrown off, but I had lost precious time. I was out with my bow within a few minutes, and by time I was shooting I caught a glimpse of Oba-san from the corner of my eye. I didn't turn to focus on her though, I just kept shooting.

By mid afternoon, I was shaking with sweat, and my arms hurt. I hadn't properly done my routine when I came out, no stretches or preparation. I just started shooting, as hard and as often as I could. I didn't stop for breaks and stretching out like normal. I just kept shooting.

Notch and shoot. Notch and shoot. Notch and shoot.

"Yasu-kun." I didn't turn around to see Oba-san, but I knew she was behind me.

Notch. Shoot. Notch.

"Yasu-kun," Shoot. Notch. " I know this must be a hard time for you…" Shoot.

Notch. "It's closing in on your mother's anniversary isn't it?" Shoot.

I walked forward to grab my arrows again, pulling each one out of the mattress with a tug. I'd forgotten all about my Mom, to be honest. I barely knew her in the long run, and I had more important things to worry about right now. (Such a bitter thought.) Idly, I wondered how I had become too numb to such things.

Back in position. Notch. Shoot.

"Yasu-kun-" She started again, but I spoke up and cut her off.

"I'm worried something's gonna happen, Oba-san." Notch. Shoot. "I'm worried something's coming. I'll be fine tomorrow." Notch. Shoot.

A brief moment of silence, only broken by my bow string.

"I'll hold you to that, Yasu-kun." She didn't sound convinced.

I kept shooting.

Early that evening, I went inside, showered, and ate. I made sure I was in my sturdiest hand-me down clothes, with my shoes on snugly. I gave Itsuki a head-bump, holding myself there for a long moment, before turning away, and sitting down to wait at one of the tables. I rested my head on my arms, my bow on the table with my fingers brushing the smooth wood. I was as ready as I was going to get, falling into a quiet sort of trance as I waited.

Everything went to hell around 10pm.

The Kyuubi had an overwhelming presence, and it slammed into everyone, most of whom were getting ready for bed. I jerked to attention, chest tightening and my head going light with panic. My fingers gripped my bow on reflex, and I forced myself to let go and to move, darting towards everyone else in the sleeping area. I focused on their screaming, using that as an anchor to direct me away from my own panic. I skidded into the room, where all the kids were. The older ones, who were going to be taking the graduation exam in only 8 days, were freaking out as well. None of them were prepared for this. The adults came barreling into the room, some of them screaming 'It's the Kyuubi! The Kyuubi is attacking!'

Oba-san was a little bit more functional. Pro's of being former ROOT, I guess. "Everyone outside! We need to get to the evacuation centers! It'll be protected! Hurry!"

It was chaos. The younger kids were crying right alongside some of the older kids. I could see Itsuki with tears down his red face, his hair in a disarray from his hands clutching his head. I ran to him first.

"Senpai! Senpai we gotta go!" I was tugging on his sleeve with all I had. "Itsuki-Senpai!" I was screaming at him. Itsuki finally looked at me, his whole body shaking with fear. Something snapped in him. Luckily it was for the better. He burst into action, stumbling over himself to knock some sense into his friends who were still in shock and hadn't been roused by Oba-san.

It was a flurry of activity, everyone who was strong enough took the children who were too small to make the journey into their arms, sometimes taking two if they could. I worked on the kids my age, pushing them towards the back door through their little tears, pulling them when I had to. Eventually we all got outside, the lot of us. I think where, maybe 30 of us kids? Maybe 40? I didn't know, and didn't have time to really think about it. Oba-san was the last out, and we all began to run towards the rest of the village.

There was fire in the sky.

Kyuubi's form roaring in the distance, larger than life. His tails slashing around like whips. I could hear the earth-shattering booms of falling buildings, a chorus of underlying screams framing the sounds of the Fox's destruction. Debris was already choking the air as we made it deeper into the village. Villagers screams and stumbled about around us, all of them trying so hard to save somebody they loved who was trapped. Flickering street lights, some sparking and shorting out, illuminated blood splatter and corpses all around us. We didn't stop for anybody, only really taking notice of the Military Police trying to herd people towards the barrier they were protecting.

When all was said and done, that would be the second strongest image I would come out of this whole thing with. The Uchiha's were standing steady, and tall. They pulled the still living from the rubble, taking them to safety, clearing as much of the village as they could. I saw dozens of them as we booked it towards the barrier. One even helped us, scooping up two kids in her arms moments after they fell, running with us at a civilians pace, helping Oba-san and the other caretakers herd us children to the barrier. I wouldn't remember her face, when all was said and done, but I would remember the sight of her back.

We all were pushed to relative safety, and I watched as she turned around, and headed right back out there, jumping to a rooftop in the distance as she regrouped with others. They disappeared into the fray.

I will forever remember the smell of dust in the air, the lingering scent of copper from the blood some of us had stepped in on our way in. (Copper and Salt, all men bleed the same.) People all around were terrified, screaming and sobbing in equal measures. But for now, we were as safe as we could get. Still, that didn't mean those of us safe couldn't still see the Kyuubi raging destruction in the distance.

I realised I was shaking, fingers touching my face to feel the wetness of tears. How long had I been crying? I didn't know. I saw that Oba-san was occupied with the other kids, so I slunk away. I needed to see each face in here, I was committing every look to memory. That was the first time I ever really understood why the village would hate Naruto for becoming a host. Each face around me was proof of the horror this attack was causing. The sorrow, the pain, the bone deep fear. Some civilians were holding it together better than others, and I even caught glimpses of Genin forced inside as well.

There was nothing I could have done to prevent this, nothing. Still, guilt swelled up inside me like a long lost friend, blooming like a weed, already strangling me from the inside out.

I kept moving.

There was so much crying around me, that I honestly don't know why the cries of one baby and the boy who was shushing him softly caught my attention. Still, I turned to look, and when the boy turned to talk briefly to the girl next to him, I caught sight of the face of Itachi Uchiha. The Uchiha fan was on his back, standing out like a beacon to me. The image of the Uchiha who helped us was still burning fresh in my mind. My feet moved without my approval.

"Uchiha-san." Itachi's little face turned to me, body shifting as he did, putting Sasuke in my view only a tiny bit. He looked confused, as much as he could anyway. The girl beside him looked at me to.

I moved closer, standing a foot or so away, shifting nervously on my feet. I wiped my eyes, straightening myself out as quickly as I could before their patience with me ran out. "Are you Itachi? The Clan Head's son?"

Itachi nodded, eyes narrowing a bit in suspicion. So did the girl's. This was an odd time for me to be doing this, I suppose.

"Thank you." I stated it firmly, back ramrod straight as I did so. "Wha?" The girl started to say something, some sign of confusion probably, but I didn't let her get that far, and pushed on ahead before I lost my confidence.

"It's your family out there right? Helping us civilians? I, I wanted to thank you, and when all of this is said and done, and it will be I know it, I was hoping you'd extend my thanks to your father. One of his people...she grabbed some of the younger kids in our group when they fell, and helped us all get here safely. I don't know who she is, but I know she protected us." I shifted about for a moment.

"Everybody...everybody else is out fighting the Fox, but you guys stayed to protect the rest of us who couldn't protect ourselves. Oba-san is to occupied with everybody else, so I don't think she is really thinking about it. I don't think anybody is, with all this chaos…" I looked out past them, towards where the Fox was reeking havoc, the night lit up by fires all around the demon.

The girl stood up, moving next to me. Her hand was stuck out in front of me, and I looked owlishly at it, then up at her.

"I'm Izumi Uchiha." I reached out to shake her hand, pulling it back to rub at my head, both to push the sensation of her hand away, and because I was feeling a little lost.

"Yasu Akiyama. I'm gonna be…" I faltered. "I was gonna join the Academy for the Spring Rotation classes, but I think that's gonna have to wait."

Izumi pointedly looked behind me and motioned for me to come sit with her and Itachi, who was simply looking at me from the corners of his eyes now. I think he might have been sizing me up, but I couldn't be sure.

I pointedly sat on Itachi's other side, looking down at the baby in his arms. "Who's the little guy?" I asked the other boy.

Itachi shifted little Sasuke in his arms, fingers holding tight into a little bit of fabric near the baby's feet. "This is my little brother, Sasuke." Those were the first words Itachi ever spoke to me. Knowing what I did of him, it fit.

Shit, Sasuke was named after somebody...let me think..Got it! "Like the Third's dad?"

That seemed to be the right thing to say, because something akin to pride flickered in Itachi's black eyes, and he nodded. "That's correct. Mother said she named Sasuke after him."

"I think it's a good choice. I bet he's going to be amazing one day. You gonna teach him?" I asked, shifting to peer at the chubby little cheeks of who might become a traitor of unimaginable power. Man, for a wrinkly little pink blob, he was kinda cute. "Itsuki-senpai is kinda like a brother I guess, and he's teaching me taijutsu."

Itachi smiled down at Sasuke softly. "Yes, I am." It was firm.

Izumi leaned forward to look at both of us. "Well, we've got to go to the Academy first!" She looked back out into the village. Her voice went quiet. "Though I don't know if we're going to be able to.." Despite our somewhat pleasant conversation, the fact of the matter was that fear was still lingering around us.

"We will." I decided. Was it really deciding if I knew this world's future?

"It might take a little while before new classes are admitted, 'cause of all the repair work that's gonna have to happen. But we will." Itachi hummed beside me, and Izumi looked to be biting her lip.

"Besides." I started. "When a forest fire breaks out, all the ash nourishes the ground, and makes way for new growth. Tree's always seem to come back. The Village will persevere, even after this."

Nobody said anything after that. The three of us, and little Sasuke, watched in silence from that point on. We saw when the Fox was seemingly teleported out of the village, and heard when shinobi came back to exclaim that the Fourth was fighting the beast.

People around us began to cry in relief, others taking a deep sigh, or hugging their loved one's. The air of fear that had once settled around us like a sheet was removed, and allowed us to breath fresh air.

Still, I sorta stuck by Itachi as people around us began to move. Izumi's mother came, and collected her. When they saw each other, whatever peace Izumi had well sitting with us passed, and the two collided, sobs shaking their shoulders. Itachi and I left them to their shared sorrow. I stayed with Itachi even after that. Despite asking Itachi to extend my thanks to his father, I found I wanted to face the clan head myself. Itachi didn't seem to mind my presence, as I didn't push for conversation or pry him with questions.

Together, we waited.


	6. Exhale

Sure enough, Fugaku Uchiha arrived soon, making a beeline for Itachi and I. Itachi stood up and went to meet him, Sasuke still sleeping in his arms. I watched from a little ways away, as Fugaku's stern face softened a bit for his sons. Some more Military Police came about, helping to organize the villagers into groups and to somewhere safe for the night. I waited for an opening, and I got my chance when I saw Itachi glance at me, and Fugaku's equally dark eyes flicker to me, his expression unreadable. I hopped up, and made my way over.

Nearing them, I took a brief moment to pause, and bow respectfully. "Uchiha-sama." He made a grunt of acknowledgement and I straightened. He seemed curious, but mostly irritated. I think. I am not a master of expressions when it comes to stone faced Uchiha's like Fugaku.

"My son said you wished to thank me?" He implied, raising one eyebrow delicately. I nodded, trying not to shake like a leaf under his harsh gaze.

"Yes sir. One of the Military Police helped those of us from the Orphanage on our way here." It was the first time I'd actually said were I had come from in front of Itachi, but neither of them seemed to so much as blink at this.  
"I just...I know everybody else went to fight head on, but I really respect you all for staying back and protecting us civilians. Could..could you extend my thanks to the rest of those under your command as well?" I was hoping word of my thanks, as little and insignificant as it was, would reach the woman who helped us. I shifted from foot to foot, but kept my gaze on Fugaku. This was a horrible idea and this man could ring my little neck like a tissue, I was going to die, oh god why did I do this?

"We were doing our duty to the village and its people." The Uchiha head declared, hand coming to rest on Itachi's shoulder. He looked proud. "But I will let them know."

This was the best idea ever, holy shit. I could practically feel myself beaming with delight before the two notoriously stoic 'men'. I bowed again, as low as I could without getting on my knees. "Thank you, Uchiha-sama!" I straightened to look back to where I knew Oba-san and the others would be. "I have to go before Oba-san starts to worry about me. Thank you again! Goodbye Itachi, Sasuke!" I twisted on my heels with a wave, before darting into the crowd and back towards the Orphanage gang.

My heart was practically trying to explode out of my chest, pounding against my rib-cage like a wild animal. It was so easy, wasn't it? A little sign of kindness, or assistance, and I would follow someone without blinking, until they proved themselves unworthy of my loyalty.

And the Uchiha's had it now. The image of them, back to us as they helped other people….I couldn't understand how the village had turned on them after this. After all, Fugaku, someone I always thought of being harsh or uncaring before, turned into someone who cared about even people like me. He knew that someone had to protect the people, and he stepped up, his clan following him. I couldn't, wouldn't let people think they didn't have the village's best interests at heart.

So when I rejoined my fellow orphans, I proudly started telling Itsuki-senpai about what Fugaku had said to me, and what I remembered about the brave Uchiha's. The two little kids the woman had saved ended up coming over, and even as we were guided to emergency camps for the night, I kept telling all of the little ears I could about the bravery of the Uchiha. And, I could see Itsuki telling his friends among the older kids, and the two who had been saved retelling it to other younger kids.

By morning, all the children of the Orphanage looked up to the Uchiha as heroes of the people.

It was kind of inevitable, I think. I was so excited, so in awe of them, that my admiration was infectious. I've always been a storyteller, words spun from my mouth into tapestries all painting a picture of noble Uchiha.

I personally didn't leave the Orphanage, practically at all.

But the older kids went to the academy, and some of the other kids who were younger or not interested in ninja life got escorted to the park every so often. They had friends outside of the Orphanage. They had people they talked to, told things to.  
The next morning, well Oba-san went back to see if there was any damage or if it was safe to head back to our home, all those kids whom I had regaled with my infectious excitement spread out. Children would be children, even in the wake of tragedy. They found those friends, the ones unhampered by personal loss, and they talked.

Then those childs went to tell other friends. Gossip, and the mouths of children. Both the ultimate forces in spreading information wildly and with no control. Each child might add an embellishment here and there, make it sound bigger and greater. Tiny minds bursting with untapped creativity, unbound by such petty things as reality, or truth. All the adults were too distracted by the realities of the Village's situation, to pay attention to the topics of children.

It would be to far out of control before anybody in power found out what was happening, hell, it would be uncontrollable before even I had realized what I had done.

Well my fellow children branched out, I stayed behind, looking for some way to help. If I told my tale again and again to the children alone and scared well the adults ran about, well, I never claimed I wasn't part of the problem.

Searches for trapped survivors had lasted all night, well the rest of the civilians slept. Shinobi of all ranks worked through the night, taking shifts if they had to, to keep going. Plenty of the village had been hit quite badly, and we had lost a good amount of people. Recent Academy Graduates also stayed behind to help. Itsuki had actually graduated on the 4th, though it came and went without a ton of fanfare. He hadn't been assigned a team or Sensei yet, that was supposed to happen today, the 11th.

Apparently, it was the Jonin-sensei who would get their orphan students settled into apartment life, giving them a week or so extra at the Orphanage before they had to leave. It also wasn't much of a secret to us Orphans, that not everyone got passed, since we knew about the 'reserves'. If they didn't pass, or get an extra year at the Academy if they really impressed their sensei despite not passing, then the Jonin would be the one to take them to introduce them to the reserves, still being the one's to introduce them to apartment life. Since only orphans who attended the Academy had the required service time to the Village, not every Jonin-sensei had to do this. The reason Jonin's were the ones to do this, was mostly to prevent anyone from trying to cheat the system.

Either way, Itsuki and his year-mates still had passed their first exam, and most of them, Itsuki included, held this up to mean they had a duty to help in the wake of this tragedy. I followed Itsuki, who gave up trying to have me stay behind fairly quick, and his friends when they went and found one of the Shinobi directing relief efforts closest to us. Another boy, with short brown hair that was slightly ruffled and who stood strong and sure of himself at the head of our group, was the one who spoke for us.

"Shinobi-san!" The ninja, a fairly normal looking man who didn't really stand out much with his dark hair and eyes, turned to look at our particular group with a frown. Almost all of the kids had their headbands on, though why they thought to grab them in the chaos last night was a mystery to me. I was by far the smallest of the group, and I don't think the man even saw me from where I was behind Itsuki.

"All the current Genin have already been mobilized. Who are you?" He didn't seem happy.

"We're Genin to!" Our tiny leader declared, chest puffing up. "Our team assignments were supposed to be today, but we're still Genin and we're here to help!"

"No." The Shinobi turned away to leave, but the boy didn't let him.

"Let us help! This is our village too! We're shinobi now!" The man opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and just closed it and shook his head. I think he muttered something, but I wasn't close enough to be sure.

"Fine. Split into groups of three, and go help the other Genin with the rubble. Check in with the shinobi in command of the area and get their approval and direction before you start working. Now scat." We did, and Itsuki tapped his knuckles on my shoulder to tell me I was coming with his and his group.

We eventually did get to work. The shinobi in charge of the area my group went to, wasn't exactly thrilled with me being there, given how small and young I was, not even an Academy attendee. I did manage to get his approval to work, but I didn't get to stick with Itsuki like intended. I ended up running messages all up and down the streets. Fetching people or passing on messages. I caught sight of a few others doing the same, but I think I was the youngest to actually be helping. Well, youngest in body anyway.

Everytime I passed any children, sniffling and sad, I ran over with a tale on my lips. When I moved on, they had hope in their eyes and a shaky smile.

The sun above us beat down mercilessly. It was a hot day, but everyone kept working for the next few hours. Some Genin, those not moving rubble, helped the Medical Ninja's, and under their orders, made sure all the young volunteers kept hydrated and took short breaks in what safe shade they could find.

It was sometime past noon, when word started to pass around that the Hokage was calling a gathering in front of the Hokage's Tower. A small part of me remembered sitting in Dad's arms there, when the end of the war was announced. I tried not to think of it.

But I felt dread all the same.

We all gathered, save for those left behind to keep searching for signs of living people. Shinobi of all ages, and probably all of the adult civilians to. There were plenty of kids about, but I didn't think many of them would be old enough to fully understand what was about to happen.

People of all ages waited, eager to see the 4th, the hero who stopped the Fox in its tracks. I could tell by the faces of some older shinobi around, that they already knew that the 4th was gone.

When the 3rd stepped out, in full Hokage robes, shock rippled through the crowd. But the former turned current Hokage pushed on, standing tall in front of his people.

"Tragedy." He began, and people went quiet for him. "Our village has been hit by a tragedy of unimaginable proportions. But here we are, alive! The Nine-Tailed Fox attacked our village, and we repelled it! Not even a Tail Beast can defeat the people and shinobi of Konoha! From our ashes, we will rise, even greater than before!" I could see that he was rising the pride of his people, probably to try to help take some of them out of the pits of despair.

"Still, many of you are probably wondering why I am here. It is with great regret, that I must announce the death of our beloved Yondaime, Minato Namikaze" The sorrow from the people was practically physical. "The Fourth loved this village, it's people. When the Fox came, he himself went to face it in battle. He gave his life, to protect our village and it's people! The village whom he loved! The people he vowed to protect when he first took this hat!" The 3rd took a moment to pause, and someone from behind him, handed him a baby.

Oh, no. Don't do this, I silently pleaded. You're going to brand a target for hate into his back. Let him be a nameless, unnoticed orphan like the rest of us. Let him be happy, don't curse him to years alone. Still, I knew it was in part due to those years that Naruto grew up to become who he was. Yet, I didn't want a child to suffer like that. But I was a nameless child myself, and nobody could stop what happened next.

"The Fourth, in all his brilliance, managed to seal the demon away. His final wish, was for the child to be known for the hero he is. I present to you," You will come to regret this, Sarutobi. I thought. "Naruto Uzumaki! The hero child who holds the demon at bay, so it may never again harm the people of this village!"

The reaction was almost instant. Fear and rage overtook the pride that the 3rd tried so hard to rally. Small murmurs of discontent turned into shouts of rage like the flip of a coin. The people, civilian and ninja alike, roared all their pain out.  
They wanted the child, and thus the demon, dead. After all, how could a baby keep the beast at bay, were the 4th died facing it? The 3rd, who only moments before was open and believed in his people, seemed to back down and close himself off a little bit. I think he was surprised by the people's reaction, as if them rejecting the 4th's last wish wasn't even a possibility.

I was already scooting through the crowd, to head back to see if anybody still needed my help. I didn't stay to see or hear the 3rd declare the topic taboo, trying to salvage the mess he'd made. There was nothing I could do here, after all.

How many people suffer, Sarutobi? For the sins you commit, the sins you never correct.


	7. Rebuilding

Life after the attack was nothing close to normal.

The Academy had sustained considerable damage, and declared for one year it couldn't take in new students. Even the current year's of students had additional reconstructions responsibilities to help get the Academy functioning at its full capacity.

Itsuki's year of academy graduates was perhaps the biggest single addition to the Genin forces in the history of the Academy itself. The losses to the village had been numerous in both civilian and shinobi casualties. I don't think a single assigned Genin team was failed by their chosen Sensei. For them, there was no second test, no 66% hanging over their heads.

Having the Academy closed off to new students for a year was a harsh blow, only mildly tempered by the large addition Itsuki's year provided. I would bet that the Spring Rotation class graduates this upcoming year would all be passed as well. The Hokage seemed to be trying to bolster our shinobi numbers as much as he could, so we wouldn't look weak to our former enemies in the last war. Well, as weak.

Itsuki left the Orphanage, promising to write me with his new address soon once his Sensei got things settled. But, in the hole he and his yearmates left, more children flowed in, stuffing the Orphanage far tighter than it had been. Many orphans had been made by the Kyuubi, both from civilian and clan-less shinobi families who had been lost in the attack.  
We weren't the only orphanage in the village, but we were certainly the biggest. Oba-san seemed to run ragged trying to keep everything together, but a single week after the attack and things calmed down.

But that was because more than half of the children who had come in the wake of the attack were taken away mere days after coming to live with us.

Oba-san look gaunt, after that. Tired and a little broken, and often she could be seen looking at a little picture she had gotten.

When I caught a glimpse of her looking at that photo, I knew that those orphans had been taken by Danzo. I actually got a little sick, thinking about it. I couldn't look at Oba-san in the face for a while after the kids were taken. I sometimes wondered if she could even look at herself in the mirror at night.

I stopped learning medic skills from her. The only formal acknowledgement of it was one day, when I stopped just inside the door, Nono looking up to me wondering why I wasn't coming in.

I couldn't hide how I felt. Disgusted, but sorrowful. A little piece of shattered trust, when there was so little to begin with.

I think she new, or atleast suspected, that I knew where the children had gone. Her eyes were resigned behind her glasses, and when I turned away there was no voice calling out to stop me.

I understand that we needed more space, more funding more help. But no matter what we risked facing, nothing was worth the fate dolled out to the children taken away.

There was simply to much ROOT still in Nono for me to trust her. A root system that was compromised by rot would kill the tree. Nono wasn't Sai. She hadn't cut the rot away when she honestly and truly eft. A part was still in her, still affecting her decisions.

Rot spreads. For all the good fruit, the tree was still dying.

The saddest thing of all, was the fact that I would bet honest money on the fact that Nono knew this.  
Knew this and yet could do nothing. Would do nothing.

How much more did she love Kabuto then the rest of the children?

As for the village, reconstruction couldn't quite begin until the rubble was cleared away.

People, who had lost their jobs or houses by virtue of having the buildings be destroyed in the attack, found new jobs in construction crews. I think I heard some sort of rumor that there was a contract for the workers about living spaces after construction was finished, but I couldn't be sure.

I was preoccupied by training. I didn't have anyone who was willing to spare time to work with me on taijutsu anymore, so I kept working on my bow-work. Except now, I spent more time in the village itself.

I would inform the matrons of my leaving, and head to the village in the mornings after training. I must have made a good impression when I was running messages in the morning after the attack, because it became a more permanent thing in the following weeks. I would run from site to site, passing messages along from workers or their bosses, or run orders to where they needed to go. Communication was vital in everything going smoothly after all.

Sometimes workers would ask me to pick them up a little something from a still functioning food shop. Each run I did, got me a few ryo to call my own. It was cheaper I guess, then sending workers to pass the messages along during their paid working hours, or paying an adult to do it. Child were cheap labor, and I wasn't the only child who profited and was profited off of. There were other kids doing the same thing all over the village, and the people who paid us to do this for them called us, almost affectionately, 'Turtles'. It was mostly a joke, seeing as we were making fairly decent time all things considered. I got, about two ryo each delivery, and I could make ten or more deliveries each day during the crew's work hours. It was a good workout, especially when I was making deliveries of material things and not just messages. I also got paid double for that. Really, it was pocket change for the workers, even now. Money became a bit tight for everyone, but people really seemed to come together after a tragedy.

Keeping money flowing, circulating, was vital after all. Konoha couldn't afford to suffer an economic depression right now.

Mom's anniversary came and went, and soon it was November. Konoha was the land of fire, and as such was notably warm most of the time. Still, it could get a bit chilly during the winter time, even snowing sometimes, but it never stayed for very long.

November meant people typically started busting out slightly warmer shirts, but it meant I stayed with my usual clothes, which amounted to some dark pants and sandals and a light blue t-shirt. I had a brown belt that was made for someone much bigger than me, but I easily made it work. Some string secured a water bottle to my belt as well, since dehydration wouldn't be coming after me anytime soon. My hair was in need of a trim, the back of it tickling my neck unless I kept it in a tiny ponytail.

I once lived somewhere with snow as an arch enemy, and even though this body had never been there, my mind still knew it. I'd be damned before the land of fire got the best of me!

Us Turtles, or runners as we referred to ourselves, had a few little nooks around the village, little shady spots near common roads where we sometimes passed each other by. So often enough when we took breaks, those were the places we went. Today was one such day, and it was late afternoon when I clambered onto a bench under a tree, one of the many little nooks taken over by the Turtles. I was a bit late, compared to when I usually showed up, but my spot was saved for me by the others.

There were four of us that usually chilled at this spot during this time frame of the day. Goro, a slightly bigger boy with close cut black hair and squinty eyes, was the oldest of the group here at 10. Well he wasn't the fastest, he was very strong, and did a lot of deliveries. Then there was Ami, a tall girl with pale green hair and matching eyes. Despite being skinnier and more frail looking, she was deceptively strong. At 9, and also a civilian, she was Goro's longtime friend. They often had contests to see who could deliver more packages on that particular day, no matter the size. Haru was 7, brown-eyed with long nimble fingers that he fidgeted with a lot. His hair was the longest of us, hanging down to his shoulders in a smooth ponytail, it's violet color bordering on black at times, depending on the lighting. Goro liked the ground, resting his back to the bench. Ami would climb the tree to its lowest branch, and Haru typically shared the bench with me, each on our own dedicated side.

We were the kind of friends you make when there is nothing else really for you to do. Casual and friendly, but nothing substantial.

"Yasu!" Goro greeted me first as I came into view, and Ami echoed him only a moment after. Haru just waved.

"Hi," I greeted as I came closer to the group, "Old Man Yori gave me some steamed pork buns today for us." I lifted the box in my hands as proof of my statement, handing it to Haru to hold as I could clamber up onto the bench. Haru handed it back, polite as always, and I opened it up. Predictably Goro and Ami swarmed like vultures.

"Did'ja pass on a message from his kid today?" Goro asked, his big hand snatching up two from the box as soon as it was opened. Ami had hopped down from her tree perch to sit on the back of the bench, and her arm snapped out to take one next. Haru was much more polite than the older kids, and waited til I offered him some.

"Yeah, I did." I set the container down between Haru and I, and took one of the buns for myself. "Business was good today for me, how 'bout you guys?" I asked, nibbling on my free food. Pork wasn't my favorite, but it WAS free, and the texture was always nice, so I ate it without complaint.

Haru shook his head. "Pretty slow for me, the usual bunch didn't have much to say to each other today."

"I got a bunch of lunch deliveries a while ago!" Ami piped up, whipping her mouth clean as she did so, collecting bits of food on her sleeve. "Made a good bit from the guys working around the north end of the market district, seem'd like it was somebody's birthday or something, given how much they all ordered. I was going back and forth for aaaaaages!" Ami drawled, but Goro scoffed at that, grinning up at where she was, food still on his chin.

"Bet I got more than you! The guys on the east made a big group order too! I made a killing today!" He did what I suppose he thought of as a cool and challenging fist pump.

"Well," I started, chewing slowly. "Aside from business, anything interesting happening today?" Goro and Ami were big talkers, and always had something or other to gossip about. Sure enough, Ami had something.

"Did'ja know some of the kids are starting a collection for the Uchiha?" I almost choked, and Haru reached out to slap me on the back, trying to be helpful. I waved him off, getting ahold of myself.

"What?" What in the world did they need a collection for?

"Yeah!" Goro picked up, twisting around to look at us better, caught up in the story now, and barely taking note of my fish-outta-water expression. "I heard that too! Some of the others 'runners I passed were talking about it! They said somebody who worked the streets in residential started it to show support!" He was practically bouncing in his seat. "I was planning on heading that way after lunch to see if I could get in on it to!"

Haru kicked his legs a little bit, swinging them thoughtfully. "Mom says some people are going to try to petition the Hokage to give the Military Police an award for the work they've been doing recently." I took one of the last two buns, and gave Haru the other one, in a bit of a daze still. "She said that Aunt Aoi told her that the bar's have been," here he changed his voice probably to represent his aunt, "particularly rowdy lately." Goro and Ami giggled a bit at that, since he had jutted his chin out and made a face like he was sucking a lemon as he spoke.

I ate my bun slowly, frowning in thought as the others around me continued to joke and laugh, wondered slightly if this was what it had been like for the Uchiha after the attack in the first place. I knew everybody would treat Sasuke Uchiha like royalty almost, in the future. But that was after the massacre, after the attempted coup that Itachi stopped before the public could find out about it. But, for the life of me, I couldn't image why they would have a coup in the first place, if the public support was on their side like this...Surely it was in the original timeline...right?

I was struck by the thought that I was only really seeing the civilian side of things. Maybe Itsuki-senpai knew more? I pushed off the bench suddenly, garnering some looks from my companions.

Haru raised his voice in question. "Yas-"

"Sorry! I just remembered I have to ask my senpai something!" I was already off, little feet pounding on the ground as I took off towards where I knew Itsuki lived. Last time we talked, he said he usually had lunch off from missions with his team, maybe I could catch him at home?

One good things about being a tiny ass kid, was that it was far easier to weave between whatever crowds I encountered on the road. And weave I did, between the crowds of people in the streets, ducking under the arms of startled adults, who shouted at me as I passed. Itsuki's genin apartment complex was a bit of a distance from my usually frequented streets in the village, but I'd spent every morning for ages running for my training, and as such I didn't have to stop once on my way.

Given Itsuki lived on the fourth floor, and elevators weren't a thing, I had to book it up a couple flights before I got to his door. Stairs didn't hurt my knees anymore, but they sure could wind a kid.

I knocked loudly on his door, and held my breath in anticipation.

Itsuki placed a warm cup of tea on the table in front of me, settling back into his own chair. I had indeed caught Itsuki on his lunch break, near the end of it as he had been doing dishes. He had been happy to see me visiting, but the look on my face let him know something was up.

"So!" Itsuki started, settling back into his chair. He was giving me an expectant look, the likes of which had me squirming in my seat. Admittedly, I had been banging on his door like a tiny lunatic. "What do you need, Yasu-kun?"

I took a hold of my cup, letting the warmth seep through into my hands well I thought about my question.

"Senpai?" I began, "Can you tell me what things are like out there? With the Uchiha?" I could see the confusion on his face.

"The...Uchiha? What makes you ask about them Yasu?" There was a furrow in his brow now, and he seemed to be chewing on his cheek. His Sensei hadn't had him near long enough to give Itsuki a poker-face.

"Well, I was having lunch with the other Turtles today," and here I pointedly ignored the twitch of Itsuki's lips at the mention of the nickname appointed to us, "and they were talking about how people were rallying behind the Uchiha to be rewarded for their actions in the attack. One of'm mentioned the bar's have been rowdy lately to. But then, if people are trying to support the Uchiha, why would they act out and cause them to have to come to settle things?" I let the question hang in the air, blowing on my tea so I could take a slow slip. The silence between us seemed to hang in the air.

"So," I began again, "given that I know how much the civilians around the village support the Uchiha, I have to assume that it's not civilians in the bars." I gave my Senpai a long look, staring him down as the last words slipped from my lips.

"Itsuki-senpai…..are the shinobi mad at the Uchiha?"

As soon as I had mentioned the Uchiha in the beginning, Itsuki's face had fallen from concerned to a dead stare, shoulders tense and fingers clasped around his cup perhaps a bit to tightly. When I had finished, Itsuki had seemed to deflate.

"Yasu-kun…." He gave me a long, tired stare. "Sometimes I think you're too perceptive for your own good." He drank his tea quickly, pushed the cup to the side and leaning back in his chair.

"You're right, things are tense right now." I had to remind myself to keep breathing steadily at that admission. "Sensei gets angry about it a lot. Me and my team, we all deeply respect the Uchiha, but Sensei was out in the field fighting the Kyuubi. He….he gets mad at us, sometimes. He's always saying the Uchiha were cowards, to scared to fight the good fight and cowering in the village well the rest of them put their lives on the line." Itsuki stopped and started biting his cheek again, looking away from me to stare at nothing.

"I've….I've even heard mutterings from other shinobi, that the Uchiha were somehow behind everything."

We were quiet for a while after that.


	8. Revolutions

My visit with Itsuki-Senpai ended with making weekly plans for me to visit. Itsuki only had one day off a week for the foreseeable future, with the Genin Corps making up a large chunk of the workforce. The other largest group being civilians working for housing rights when the apartment complexes were complete. The delicate work was handled by professionals, but the bulk of the grunt work was outsourced, and Genin's were basically the definition of "Grunts".

I had returned to the orphanage that day, when the sun was setting, with a lot on my mind.  
I paid more attention after that, to the looks of shinobi's on the street during my deliveries when the MP was close by. Genin teams had stars in their eyes. Their sensei's didn't. It made me uneasy.

Time progressed as it always did, without any regard to what anyone else wanted.

Everyone seemed to be working double time to get damaged apartments up and running before winter. My visits with Itsuki started to be more of me having tea in his apartment well he passed out on the couch for a midday post-lunch nap. It was nice, to say the least. I knew how hard Senpai was working, the evidence plain to see in the lines etching themselves into his face, bags darkening under his eyes. So, very quickly our scheduled visits took on a routine of their own. I would pick something up for lunch, much to Itsuki's initial horror, and made it to his apartment by time the older boy had prepared tea. A quick lunch, followed by Itsuki passing out and me cleaning up, before I would have another cup of tea in the quiet of Itsuki's place, reading whatever spare books could be found around the apartment from Itsuki's academy days.

Most of them were textbooks, but I didn't mind. Infact, I found it interesting. All the facts I read stayed with me far too easily for it to be normal. What did my reincarnation do to my brain? In this period of time where the one's brain was doing so much growing? I felt like a sponge, facts and figures piling into my mind neatly. The more I learned though, the more I lost something. I learned and remembered, and deep in the quietest place in my heart, something slowly faded away.

(Everytime I stopped to try to think about it, to voice the concerns of what was happening to me, I couldn't do it. So I just wrapped it up, and shoved it down, down, down. As far as it would go, as far from my mind as I could get it. It was haunting me, this truth I couldn't speak.)

Lunch with Itsuki became a sort of isolated paradise away from the rest of...well, everything. Winter closed in, and the work finally started dwindling. Most of what was left was either precision work that couldn't be outsourced to anyone without the proper training, or it was work that didn't need to be competed on a desperately short timetable, like all the housing needed for those who'd lost theirs. My own days were on the cusp of teetering back into the relative monotony I had at the orphanage before the attack. Without being a student of the Academy, one couldn't get into the Shinobi Library at all, and the Public Civilian library required everyone of a certain age and under to be accompanied by an adult.

Slowly I eased back to spending the majority of my days back at the Orphanage, with exception to my visit to Itsuki's every week. Without the work to bring us together, my association with the other runners, such as Goro, Ami and Haru, dwindled down to nothing, the casual ties of friendship slipping through my fingers like dry sand. I didn't try to catch any of the sand, letting the friendship we had, and could of had, go without a fight. I don't reach out to any of them once the work is gone, don't try to extend the lifespan of the friendships we had briefly shared.

Who was I to these kids? Just another scrawny brat like them, intending on working towards a career that could as easily see me dead as it could see me to living over the age of twenty. None of them were going to the Academy, all with vague plans for a safe existence tucked away somewhere. It seemed...pointless, to befriend someone who may never understand the life I was choosing on living. Someone who couldn't understand the risks, couldn't live with them.

A part of me feels anger trying to blossom in my chest, the taste of it a bitter pill on my tongue.

I ignore it, try to rip the flower out of my chest and trample it into the dust so I could go on with my day, ignoring the flickering memory of a face in the back of my head. (It's not a flower, anger is a weed, vicious and eternally expanding everywhere it can. A tiny part of me knows that weeds always come back, that the root of the thing hasn't been dealt with, and so it will keep growing, expanding, thriving. The rest of me doesn't want to deal with it, and below the surface, roots spread.)

Instead I focus again on training.

With Itsuki graduated with the others who teach me on and off, none of the others feel like taking it up in their place. I fall back on what I've been taught by other half-taught children. Running and running, stretches and my arrows. It's not enough, it may **never** be enough, but it's all I have. Itsuki doesn't have time, and I don't even have the courage to ask in the first place. My training is not Senpai's burden to bare.

I take the burden, because it's mine to carry. When I get bored with the work, I try to learn new things with my bow. I go from drawing it well running, to shooting as I run. Perfecting my aim mid-motion, my speed with the arrows grasped in my fingers. Some days, I try as many trick shots as my mind can come up with. Most of it ends in failure, but with each shot I make, I learn.

I can't stop learning. If I ever stop, if I ever slow, I fear it will lead to my own failure. And failure in the ninja world can mean death.

Winter comes in the form of frost dusting the grass that never seems to melt, chill air tickling my nose. Things have just started to calm down in the grand scheme of things. Well, calm until suddenly it's not.

I'm not in the village as much anymore, only passing through to Itsuki's, for my only allowed hours of rest and relaxation. But one day, in the middle of January, I step deeper into the village and it's….chaos.

People are rioting in the streets, yelling and throwing things, crowds pushing and shoving against Shinobi trying to keep them back, the chaotic movements faintly reminding me of an ocean. I know I should go back, should get out of the way of the riots and get back to safety.

But I also know this was a long time in coming. The tensions had been building, and I wanted to know why.

People scream, voices cracking as they accused the armed men and women trying to control them. "THEY WERE THE ONLY ONE'S TO THINK OF US, WHERE WERE YOU WHEN RUBBLE KILLED MY BROTHER?"

"THEY'RE HEROES! FUCK YOU, YOU COWARDS!" Broken accusations, half-sobbed by people whose hearts haven't healed.

Burning rage in youth, needing an outlet lest it consumes them whole. "JUSTICE FOR THE UCHIHA!"

"THEY DON'T DESERVE THIS PUNISHMENT!" The people, who rebuilt their homes and buried their dead. Who trusted in the shinobi to protect them, all thinking of the Uchiha fan on the backs of those who did just that. Of the people who stepped away from the glory of fighting a demon, to stay and help those caught in all the crossfire.

I gathered information from the fringes, scampering around like a damn rat in the shadows, listening and watching. Gold eyes taking in everything. The Military Police weren't helping the Shinobi keep peace, and instead some were spitting insults with the rest of the rioter, lashing out in anger. Others tried to hold the shinobi off, forming human walls to protect the civilians rioting in their honor.

The Uchiha where being moved. The whole clan rounded up like dogs and being sent to live around some kind of shrine. It had apparently been in the works since the attack, but why it was only happening now was anyone's guess. The Village Council had just pushed the decision through, and the civilians had somehow caught wind.

A rumor caught fire, but it was the truth that burned them.

I never got to see the entirety of the riot, never found out how it ended. Itsuki, being the relatively fresh genin he was, was trying to contain the civilians with the rest of the shinobi and his team. When he saw me, a barked order sent me scurrying towards his apartment, tail between my legs.

Konoha has a revolution that summer, following that riot, and several others in the coming days and nights. Perhaps the Hokage saw the tides that we children made, when our rumors and stories of admiration turned the civilians to love the Uchiha fiercely for their protection during the attack, perhaps he saw the crack in the ground threatening to turn into a great divide between the Uchiha, civilians, and the Shinobi.

The Hokage ended the riots with a speech, one I never saw. But I heard about it.

The Hokage talked forest fires, the struggles of a forest burned to ash. He spoke of new life, new chances, and rising again into something beautiful and strong. The aftermath of what he put into decree was astronomical.

The Military Police, which had previously been comprised of entirely Uchiha when it was started by the Second to keep an eye on them, was opened up. Fugaku was given permission to accept any Shinobi who applied to join the MP, as well as opening the Genin Corps to the MP and any civilian students of the Academy that failed their Jonin's test but didn't go to the Corps.

It was an entirely new avenue, and it boosted the villages forces considerably almost immediately. Students who failed within the past 5 years were all given leave to try to join, Fugaku starting an entire training program specifically to getting the former shinobi-hopefuls back into fighting shape.  
Uchiha shinobi were also being offered new opportunities, more of them being given the chance to have their own Genin teams or even classes to teach at the academy.

The Third also announced a weeklong festival in early summer, dedicated to all the clans in the village. The first day would honor the Uchiha, all the others over 5 days, and the last half-day of festivities would be in dedication to the dwindling Senju clan.

With whatever strokes of a pen the Hokage made to make all of this happen, he single-handedly took the Uchiha clan and interwove them so deeply into the structure of the village that no one could ever get away with saying that any of the clans, especially the Uchiha, weren't given proper respect from the village, and all that came with that respect.

Meanwhile, I stood by and watched. A little orphan boy, unimportant and nameless to the masses. A child who, future knowledge notwithstanding, riled up the hearts and minds of other little nameless orphans. Children who would spread out, words lose on their tongues and no hesitation, riling up the hearts of other children, children with families, families with friends who also had children.  
No one would ever remember, never know just how it started, how the civilians began to love so deeply they'd riot to keep the one's they admired close. All people would talk about, decades into the future, was how following a devastating disaster, and a brief period of riots, the village grew stronger, starting in Konoha a new age, another Golden Age of The Clans.

I stood by, a boy at the edge of a crowd watching in awe.

Was this what I had been sent here for? Was this the grand destiny I must have been given in order to be reborn as I had?

I remembered the solemn eyes of a solemn boy with his brother in his arms. A quiet boy who would have been forced to do the unspeakable. Kill hundreds to save thousands, to save his brother.

I had a feeling, a hope, that perhaps now, that quiet boy wouldn't ever have to face such a task.

Perhaps he could find peace.


	9. Peace is for the Old

Time passes as it always does. Without any consideration for anyone.

Before long, I found myself standing in orderly formation, attending the academy entrance ceremony. My once longer hair now cut neatly into a spikey looking crew-cut. I was presentable, in my best freshly laundered clothes. All of us scattered orphans in the mass of children were. Clean, respectable, and practically identical to all the other children listening to the ceremony.

I stood among children, all of us between the ages of 5 and 6. Having been closed, this was the first class of students being admitted to the Academy since the attack. The Academy had been closed a little longer than anticipated, due to shuffling of new teachers and rumors of altered course standards. We were all joining the Spring Rotation classes, and I suspected very few of us knew the burden being placed on our shoulders.

We still needed field Shinobi, still needed new warriors to replace the dead and show no weakness to our enemies. The elder generation would be looking to us with a careful eye.

I was 6 now, barely any taller than before, just another face in the crowd with round baby fat-filled cheeks and wide-eyed stare. I could barely contain my trembling.  
Practicing with a bow and running laps….none of it was enough to let it sink in. I was here, preparing to dedicate the rest of my new life to warfare. Blood and **death.** I felt sick.

But what else could I do? This world was run by the powerful, by the strong ninja's who could bend the world in their favor by brute force. I could change nothing by being a civilian, not anymore. Fear and uncertainty rolled in my gut. The Uchiha had been a fluke, an unintentional change made by the pure and innocent luck of an excited child. A wonderful change yes, but one made by luck nonetheless. I hadn't done any of the work, not really. Just the spark lucky enough to catch fire, quickly overtaken by the roaring fires of the civilians who did the actual work.

I was here for a reason, I had to be. Fear was eating at my insides, digging its claws so deep into me that I couldn't tell where it began and I ended. I had to do something, something more, surely I was not born only to fulfill what grand destiny I had at 5 years of age.

There had to be more. I had to be more.

All I had to do to find and fulfill that true reason for my life was dedicate myself to bloodshed in the name of peace.

How bitterly ironic.

I was assigned my class, given the materials and schedules. I shared my class with a few familiar faces from the orphanage, but I wasn't friends with practically anyone other then Itsuki-senpai, and even that was fading. I felt alone.

That first night I dreamed of a kiss to my forehead, familiar and so, so gentle. But then blood is on my hands, warm, sticky and oh **god its gushing, I can't stop the flow, please, please stay with me Ican'tdothisonmyownpleASE-**

The first few days were spent on pure academics. Rules, expectations, things to memorize. I learn more, I lose more. It's eating away at me.  
Quickly they sorted us out by giving preliminary fitness tests. Seperated the strong from the weak, those with training and those without, to better give us direction. I wasn't surprised to find my measly training wasn't enough to make the cut when there were so many clan kids in my year. Days become monotonous, learn and learn and train and train, head to bed then to work again.

I close my eyes and there is **blood** , on my hands, on my tongue, the gasping sounds of a dying child at my feet, once innocent eyes staring at me accusingly. I try to speak but I choke on my words, choking on words and blood that gushes and I am **drowning**

I spent a while like that, spending my first days eating in the classroom and reading my textbooks, studying ahead and doing any work I still had in order to give myself as much leeway as I could. I was familiar with going through the motions, with letting my days blur together into one mass of barely remembered time, hiding in my chosen seat, staring through a window into a world I wasn't ready to join. I had bags under my eyes, and a twitch in my leg. I could feel eyes on me, older and judging, asking how long before I crack? So early and already breaking under the pressure. Breaking under nightmares and blood on my hands every time I close my eyes.

I lasted a week, before I began to crave interaction, a deep reaching inch I couldn't scratch alone. I needed to get out, to do something different. Try to break the cycle.

When I ate outside for the first time, longing for the classic school-yard lunch under the trees, I realized we shared our lunch with other classes of our year.

And there, outside by the very trees I had come to seek out, was a solemn boy with solemn eyes eating alone.

Itachi Uchiha.

I move without thinking, feet taking such sure steps though I had no idea how. There was a pull, down deep in my soul, and I was helpless but to follow. "Itachi-san, may I sit with you?"

He looked at me, black eyes curious with recognition. He says nothing, not in words or body language, only nods once, watching me from the corner of his eyes as he moves to continue eating.

I flop down, a sign escaping me as I do. My back is pressed against the bark of the tree. The wind is blowing softly, bringing the smell of spring and a cool kiss to my skin. My classmates are chattering all together, playing games and running around. My chest starts to feel tight. Flashes of dead children and blood is running on repeat in my head. I rip open my lunch in vicious motions, ignoring the stoic boy next to me, shoving food into my mouth.

Lunch in the classroom is so much quieter than this. It's so much easier to forget how young we all are during lessons, but not so much here.

I eat my lunch in shaking silence, a death grip on my chopsticks. At my side, Itachi says nothing, but I can feel his eye on me occasionally. The feeling of it burns.

We stay seated there, until the teachers call us all in to our respective classes. Life moves on.

a child is gasping at my feet, shaking violently in a slow death. My hands are red, so so red, and I reach down, metal glinting in my hands-

The next day I stare with dead eyes in class. None of my classmates talk to me, a dark golden-glare and frown slowly taking over my face. I don't ask to sit next to Itachi this time, just sitting down with a sigh, laughter echoing in my ears as I eat.

I try to shake less. Itachi next to me is silent as stone. I try to harden myself, and slowly, as days pass, I shake less and less each day as I eat in the grass with the other boy. I still dream of blood, sobs echoing in my ears. I am so, so tired of **red**.

It's a Tuesday when I break. I almost make it to mine and Itachi's tree when a kid from another class asks me to play ninja with them. The little boy looks at me with bright, happy eyes. A friendly grin on his face, flush with the confidence of a child.

His shirt is red.

I can barely stutter a no before I'm stumbling down into my spot, pale and shaking.

Itachi twitches next to me, dark solem eye taking in what I can only assume is a terrible appearance on my part.

"Don't they realize what we're here for?" I whisper. "How-how fucking blissful it must be to be able to laugh and play like they are? How long before they put the knife in our hands and show us how to cut a man's throat?" Anger boils in me, anger and fear and desperationg and red-"How long before they take things seriously because we're going to be sent out to DIE for the sake of this village? I dont," I can feel my voice crack, "….I can't...I don't want to dream of their blood on my hands, Itachi-san. I'm not...I'm not good enough for this." My throat is closing up, I can feel tears in my eyes.

I see Itachi next to me like a deer in the headlights. I ignore my lunch and spend our break with my head tucked into my knees. Itachi doesn't leave, but he doesn't say anything either.

I stay late after class, throwing blunt kunai after blunt kunai, until the sun is setting and I have to hurry back before night is upon me, hands starting to blister, red and raw.

please please dont leave me, I thought you loved me, please stay, pleasepleasefatherpleasedaddy-

The next day, Itachi speaks for the first time, as he is standing to leave after another lunch spent in silence. He is looking down on me, dark solem eyes on pale skin, black raven's hair framed by the noon sun behind him.

"Akiyama-san...would you like to train with me after school today?"

His hand wasn't extended to me, but gods, it felt like it. Had he offered it, I would have taken it. Had he asked, I would have gave.

I agreed.


	10. Forest Lessons

I follow Itachi into the forest after school, and as I walk I can see evidence of his training. Gashes on trees, targets laid about in every conceivable position possible. The other boy stops just in the center of all the targets, glancing back at me, and I know immediately that we can't be alone. I look up.

The first time I meet Shisui Uchiha, he is lounging in a tree above me, the older boy swinging his legs as he watches us, a soft smile on his face. Shisui's face is not round with baby fat, but it is all soft angles and big eyes. His headband doesn't shine, the metal slightly scuffed and dull. It fits his face perfectly. I stand in quiet awe.

Shisui drops down next to Itachi, not making a single sound, a hand reaching out to ruffle the smaller boys hair. For the first time, I see Itachi's face...change.

Itachi has always been a figure in my head of quiet dignity, unrelenting duty in the face of what the world asks of him. Shisui ruffles the younger Uchiha's short hair, and for the first time I see solem eyes soften with brotherly love, masked by momentary indignation as his face scrunches up. I am frozen in my spot, feeling distinctly unworthy standing here in this forest.

"I'm going to steal your friend for a bit, Itachi. Please forgive me." Shisui smiles, and walks away, motioning without looking for me to follow. I spare Itachi a glance, and trot along after the taller boy, leaving Itachi behind to begin training.

The older Uchiha boy walks in long, easy strides, his whole body relaxed. My legs are much, much shorter, so I have to move faster to keep up with him, but never once do I make a sound of protest.

I just keep following, staring at the back of a dark blue shirt with Uchiha crest displayed proudly, shadows of light through the trees dancing over the emblem. (I remember the sight of a Uchiha woman, firelight dancing over the red and white fan on her back.)

"What's your name?" The voice breaks me out of my thought, and I realize Shisui has stopped walking. He's just standing there, looking forward to something I can't see. I step forward, until I'm standing just a bit to the side behind him. I don't move to step beside him.

"Akiyama Yasu, Uchiha-san." The first part is formal, and I dip my head even if I don't know for sure that he's looking. "But just Yasu, please."

Shisui suddenly moves, to fast for my eyes to follow. A rush of wind, a leaf blowing, and Shisui is at my back. A cold feeling of fear rushes down my spine, fingers tremble at my side. I may have flinched, but I couldn't say for sure.

"Why are you in the Academy, Yasu-san?"

I can't turn around. I don't want to see his eyes, staring me down. I doubt my feet would move even if I told them to.

"I have to."

"No you don't. No one has to become a shinobi. Why did you choose to?"

didn't you love me enough to stay?

my mother was my fathers whole world

blood warm and sticky on my hands, oh god, please stay with me

no, no you're to young for this, please stop, please, oh god oh GOD

I dream and I dream and I can not save them

i'm sorry, im so sorry I didn't mean to, please PLEASE

I have to **do sOMETHING**

Anger.  
Fear.  
Desperation.

All flood into me, nightmares flashing in my minds eye. Now, now I think I can move my feet.

I spin, tiny hands clenched and fire burning in my chest, hot and heavy. "Because someone has to! We-we live in a world where things only change when the strong rise up and take it for themselves! But humans are always striving to be the one's doing the grasping!" I can feel my chin quivering. Fuck, fuck don't cry you little bitch, hold it together-

"So we take children, and we raise them for the potential of war! I-I am being raised in a world where from day one I was told that being strong is to be the one left alive at the end. That being strong is to know how to kill a man, woman or even a child my own age, and being able to do it!"- my sight is blurry, I lash out, arms pushing at the older boy, why? I don't want to hit him why as I doing this?-

"I have to see It-It-Itsuki-senpai get mo-more and more t-t-tired! He doesn't smile like he used to! He's going on real missions now, and it's c-c-changing him! I know it is! And it'll change me to. It'll change all of us." I hiccup so hard that it shakes my whole body. Shame rushes through me, just enough to dose the fire of anger in my chest, just enough to slow me down.

"I was excited. I-I-Itsuki-sen-p-pai got me a bow and all I could think of was how to best use it, how to make it useful for killing. But then...we're so young. They run around playing and treat this like a game. I don't want them to die because of it. I don't want anyone to die."  
I rub my snotty nose onto my sleeve, unsanitary my mind knows, but it's better than letting it keep dripping.

"So...so I'll go. We won't all make it to being Shinobi, I know...but let me take the place of someone else. I don't fear dying." The words ring true to my ears, they feel right on my lips. Who fears death, but those who've never danced with it? I've already died once, what do I have to lose?

"I fear being left behind. I fear for the people being left behind. I'm not strong enough to change our world but...but maybe I can help pave the way for someone who can."

I know my eyes must be rimmed red, ugly from crying like a damn kid, but I look Shisui in the face. I can't read him.

"If I can be even a little bit useful….if I can save even one person...isn't it worth it?"

Shisui smiles, and suddenly he's reaching out, and I am pressed into his chest, his hand rubbing soothing circles into my hair.

I shake. I am weak, I give in.

I sob into the older boys chest, all the grief hiding where I've pushed it aside to think of other things, all the fear, the dread, the emotions mixed together by dreams in the dead of night.  
Shisui just lets me cry. He doesn't say anything for a long while. When no more tears come and my energy leaves me, Shisui sits us down against a tree, and we sit knee to knee.  
"I'm sorry if I upset you, Yasu-chan. Itachi-chan has talked of you before, and I heard about yesterday. I wanted to know who Itachi's new friend was. I got my answer." Shisui glanced at me from the side, dark black eyes almost...shimmering, sunlight flickering on his face. "I'm glad Itachi's found a friend his own age."

Shisui graciously waits til my eyes dry before we head back, the genin ruffling my hair like he did with Itachi. Despite how weird it felt, I treasured the gesture.

Here's the thing. One of two things will happen when the strong and weak are paired together.

Either the weak will slow everything down, forcing others to cover them since they will find themselves wildly out of their depth and worth nothing more then deadweight.

Or the strong will grab the weak, and pull until the two stand on equal ground. They will drag the other kicking and screaming until they can stand solidly and cast aside the cloak that dubbed them weak, until only **strength** remains.

This is what Itachi, and Shisui by association, do with me. They grab me by my shoulders, and **pull**.

Shisui shows me tree walking, gives me as many chakra control exercises as I can manage. I start using it constantly, no matter what surface I was on. Without being told, I walked out onto the lake where Itachi and Shisui practiced their fire jutsus, falling in time and time again until I had been out long enough to dry my clothes with the sun from atop the water. (Shisui goaded Itachi into throwing rocks at me with him. I could have sworn I saw Itachi crack a smile at the game the older boy made of it. As a bonus for me, it was a great way to train my control AND dodging. I got hit way more than I managed to dodge.) He also gives me the seals and advice for the Substitution jutsu, months ahead of schedule compared to the Academy's lesson plans. We hadn't even started any proper control exercises except the leaf one, which I had down to an art form at this point. According to the Genin, my chakra control was already decent, which coming from a soon to be legend, made me warm inside.

Performing my first jutsu was weird. I practiced and practiced til the hand signs came as easily as breathing (Tiger → Boar → Ox → Dog → Snake), pulled at the chakra inside, pushed…..and swapped with whatever was around. It was exhilarating. My mind swam, bursting with all those happy chemicals. I laughed til I cried, the first time it worked. I made it my mission to master switching with another person. Itachi was my most common victim. It took a lot of chakra, but if I twisted it just right….added another Tiger at the end...Shisui ruffled my hair harshly when he told me I was an idiot for playing with the seals, but he did say I did a good job. Itachi, to my great surprise, talked with me at length about my addition, practicing it himself. It took more chakra, but made it easier to swap with things around our immediate area, or atleast, a greater variety of things in our area. The control of the additional power needed to pull it off, via the extra Tiger seal, made the switch as easy as breathing, tho it didn't have the genjutsu affect of the normal technique. Once, for a week straight, Itachi and I drained our reserves each day, switching with each other, first just standing, then while sparring. Itachi found out how to pinpoint the beginning of the switch, and negate it. It took me two more weeks to be able to negate one of Itachi's switches.

Itachi and I would also spar. Well, Itachi kicked my ass seven ways to Sunday, beat me into the ground without mercy, and then quietly corrected what I had done wrong. My body bruised, and aching, but still, I stood again and again, exhilarated, because this was new, exciting. It was progress. Sometimes when he passed by, Shisui would join in for a free-for-all, and we would pop around the forest in an almost vicious version of tag, attacking and switching and attacking again. (Shisui didn't ask us to teach him the jutsu, he just watched us practice and then the next day he was using the modified version with us. We did show him the negating trick tho. (An almost immediate suppression of the chakra just as the other person's chakra tried to latch on for the switch, and then a quick flare right after.))

I didn't learn as many jutsu as Itachi did, as the other boy breathed them in like water. Instead, I took one at a time, until I was as fast at it as Itachi. My repertoire was smaller, but I made damn sure it was just as razor sharp as Itachi's.

By far, the most fun Itachi and I had well training, was when he pulled out his kunai and I had my bow.

Itachi and Shisui both loved working with kunai, knowing how to throw just so in order to hit every target there was. Well I was good with my aim, I preferred shooting down THEIR kunai with my arrows instead.

Itachi would try to get every target, and I would try to stop him, running around to get the best angle, firing shot after shot. (I could get 5 off in half as many seconds, before I had to grab more arrows to hold in my hand as I shot.) As I began to hit more and more of his kunai, Itachi would have to compensate in order to get all his targets.

I lived and breathed for my training with Itachi. Itachi didn't talk much, but I more than made up for it, chatting away as I pleased. Itachi always listened, never once complaining. I tried to make up for it by bringing dango for him every now and then. (I wasn't a huge fan, but Itachi's look of pure wanting the first time I handed him the bag was worth it.)

I talked with Itsuki about it every now and then, but he was gone more and more for longer missions now. Class was boring, taijutsu sessions became a breeze, and somehow, I jumped to first in my class within weeks of starting my training with Itachi. (The academics of class was just as boring. I caught on much quicker than my (mentally) younger classmates, and spent much of my time trying to peel the bark off twigs perfectly using only chakra and only holding onto it with three fingers, going strip by strip. It was harder than I thought it would be at first, but it did wonders for my little reserves. I didn't have Itachi or Shisui's reserve sizes, but my control was always getting sharper and sharper.)

It had been 5 months of daily training before Shisui decided me and Itachi should learn the Shadow Clone technique.


	11. The Riddle

The look I give Shisui is one of disbelief. If it also happens to make it look like I think Shisui is a complete idiot, well, that's just a side-effect. Shisui just smiles happily at us. Well, mostly at me because Itachi is side-eying me with a twitch in his eyebrow.

I center myself, control my expression. I pull my hands, flat against each other, up to my face to settle against my lips. I breathe in deeply, eyes closed.

A beat.

"Shisui." I don't open my eyes.

"Yes, Yasu?" My hands press to my face, rubbing up and then down past my neck. I give the older boy a pointed look.

"I only turned seven last week-" I steamroll the noises of surprise both boys make. (Woops, my bad) "I really don't think I can pull of that jutsu without killing myself. I can't die til I've grown a beard, Shisui." I glare, as hard as I can for a short, pudgy faced little boy. "I. Can't. Die. Without. A. Beard. Shisui!" Shisui, being the big pest he is, just looks like he's trying not to laugh. This is mildly insulting, because I am dead serious. Itachi, who just visible from the corner of my eye, looks entirely puzzled.

He waves me off, smile threatening to tear his face in two. "Don't worry Yasu-chan."

"Shisui." Itachi's voice refocuses us, and Shisui gets right into it.

"Learning the Shadow Clone jutsu now is the smartest thing you can do." He starts, hands blurring and a single clone poofing into existence next to him. The clone waves. "You both have good control, which makes this entirely possible for you. Mastering this now means as you get older and your reserves start to really grow, you won't risk chakra exhaustion trying to learn this." Shisui's clone comes to stand directly next to me, shoulder to shoulder. Shisui himself continues to talk, seemingly having pulled me into his explanation.

"I'm more than a head taller than both of you. It takes more chakra at a minimum to make a single clone, then it would take either of you, due to this difference in size. This jutsu is unique in the fact that it takes more chakra to safely perform the older you get, rather than having a standard amount required. You see, the Shadow Clone divides one's chakra equally between you and the number of clones made. If you don't have enough chakra for the minimum, then you're risking exhaustion. Right now, both of you have good enough control and reserves, I am confident you can both successfully make one clone." His clone pops itself, and Shisui looks serious for a moment.

"If you feel tired, even after only one attempt, wait to try again til tomorrow. Learning this quickly isn't worth the risks."

Me and Itachi nod. I find his reasonings sound, and at the end of the day, I do trust him not to lead us astray.

Itachi gets it down the first time, only needing to have seen Shisui do it that one time and hearing how it was supposed to work. It takes me three additional days and 5 attempts total to get it right . To my surprise, Itachi switches places with his clone to join me for lunch under our tree, during the time it takes me to learn the jutsu. My heart gets warm in my chest, almost full to bursting.

From then on, I meet Itachi before school and together we send our clones off. With more time to our day, Itachi and I train harder and longer. But now that we spend all day in the forest with clones at the academy, Itachi relaxes enough on his training to go home earlier in the evenings. He has a father and mother eager to see him, and a baby brother who is crawling now. I am happy for him beyond measure. But….with Itsuki gone on long escort missions, I have nowhere to go after school aside from back to the orphanage. The only curfew I have is to be back by dark. So when Itachi bids me goodbye to head home and see his family, I stay behind.

After all, not all training is as fun as with Itachi. Some things are more relaxing to be done alone. Practicing kicks and punches to strengthen myself, or working on flexibility…..I sink into the tedious training, letting my mind wander, or going over whatever memories I'm send when my clone pops. Idly, I think of how much I wished I had some headphones and my old mp3 player.

Itachi and I are walking to the Academy, having left behind the originals to their own devices. The downside to being a clone is being stuck with the grunt work, so to speak. School is fairly boring, unless I happen to get the chance to help some of my classmates. Sometimes I wonder how Itachi can stand it, the ever dutiful student he is. I'm fairly sure my teachers are irked by me when I practice my chakra control on twigs in the middle of their lectures.

As I follow behind Itachi into the school, I don't spare a second glance at the group of boys yelling at each other. Scuffles between students isn't uncommon.

I regret this a moment later, when three of the boys come running down the hall, shoving me out of the way to hide behind Itachi, crowding around him like cowering puppies. I regain my footing just as an older boy with the ugliest mullet I've ever seen comes up, growling out questions.

Itachi and the boy stare at each other for a moment. I have a sinking feeling.

"Ah, excu-" The older boy turns to lash an arm at me, "Be quiet brat!", and I spin on my heel to deftly dodge. I glance at Itachi and- oh boy. He's dark eyes have gone steely. But, because Itachi is a polite boy, he makes the seal on confrontation towards the bully.

Because the bully is NOT a polite boy, "All the freshmen this year….are STUCK UP!", throws a punch Itachi's way without returning the seal.

Itachi flips him as easy as breathing, holding the other boys wrist in what I know from experience is a painful hold. The mullet boy passes out.

"Out cold from just that?" I ask, leaning over Itachi to look at the chubby boy. I ignore the aw'ed voices behind us. Itachi gently lowers the boys arm back to his side, looking over to some older students who'd come to see the debacle when the voices had been raised.

"Take him to the infirmary please." A shaky 'Hai', is given to him as he stands. I step back to give Itachi room, but once more I am shoved aside.

"Itachi, you're really strong my friend!"

I go still. No. Nope. I whirl to watch Itachi get crowded by the three boys suddenly calling him friend, going as far to start shouting about him being a 'sir' and 'Master Itachi', as they begin to try to clear the hall for Itachi.

I barely pay any attention to the other boys, instead I watch Itachi. He doesn't tell them to stop, just stands there bewildered. But I can see his shoulders starting to tense, the furrow in his brow, the twitch of his left pinky.

"Oi!" The leader of the boys is dressed in a grayish lavender shirt, with long, spiky brown hair. I direct my shout at him, and get right in his face. I have never been this angry in my short life. I know Itachi is hard to read! I know that! But this behaviour would embarrass any sane person!

The boy turns to me, all puffed up like a angry porcupine. I don't even let him open his mouth.

"Knock it off! This is embarrassing! If you want to thank Itachi for SAVING you," I jab a finger in his chest, "then thank him properly! We don't need theatrics!." The boy's face is getting red, but I turn my back to him.

"Itachi." My voice goes softer, and my friend has already, mercifully, started to release the tension in his body. His eyes scream thanks. "Come on, let's go."

I walk beside Itachi, a shield against anyone trying to make him uncomfortable after the incident.

"Oi! OI!" The long haired boy tries to shout after us, but I resolutely keep walking, until we've gone two hallways away and I can't hear the boy anymore.

But I can hear someone else.  
"Ah, Yasu-san! Itachi-san!" "Wait, Yasu-san!" "Excuse us!"

I turn around, Itachi turning with me. I know these voices. Sure enough, a few of the more taijutsu inclined kids from my own classroom. Three boys, and two girls are moving to catch up with us.

I fall into an easy smile, and greet my classmates each in turn as they gather around.

"Hello, Daichi-san," a lanky blonde boy, "Hideki-san" a short boy with dark hair, "Aoi-san", a brunette girl, "Akio-san" the twin brother of Aoi, with short brown hair to match her's, "Shun-san." a girl with black hair in two braids.

Daichi smiles brightly, as does Shun, but the others looked a bit more hesitant.

"We saw what you did in the hall!" Shun says, turning to Itachi. I blink, and tense. Are they going to heckle him? No, they're nice kids, but- "We were hoping you could show us how you did that, Itachi-san!" Daichi finishes.

Oh. I go lax, smiling happily. Itachi looks startled.

"It was amazing, Itachi-san." Akio says, well Aoi nods furiously behind her brother. "I would really like to be able to flip Akio like that." Her twin playfully elbows her.

I reach over, an arm slung comfortably around Itachi's shoulders. (Once, such a casual touch like this would have driven me bonkers, the feeling sticking to my skin long after in a way that was different and maddening. But taijutsu has long since desensitized me. I don't enjoy it still when it comes to strangers, but Itachi is my friend, and I'm secretly a cuddly bastard when it comes to my friends.)

"Well, I go no plans today after school." I give Itachi a wink. Clones like us really didn't have anything important to do, aside from our task of being in class. "Is this ok with you Itachi?" Itachi nods.

"Ah, y-yes. If you really want to." His voice trails off, uncertain. My classmates all confirm they do want to, and thank him properly. I practically feel myself light up next to him. Social interaction! Huzzah! Itachi huffs, but I hear no malice or annoyance. Well, no annoyance aside what if typical for us. I try to give him a nuggie.

Itachi has no qualms about (carefully, so I don't pop) flipping me onto MY back, to stop me. I have a feeling this is going to be a good day.

Itachi and I come across the slightly fur-covered bones of a small mammal one day, as we come to a break in our sparring. He stares at it, looking lost.

"Itachi?"

"What's the meaning?" He whispers, torn. I know, deep down, he doesn't mean the meaning of why this animal is dead. My heart clenches in my chest. Itachi turns away, moving in a different direction. I give one last look to the oh-so casual reminder of death, and follow after my friend.

Every few days, Itachi and I wait after school for the five classmates who approached us about the taijutsu move. We spend a few minutes giving pointers or small corrections in various techniques, or showing them other moves. It's not a lot of time, but sometimes they ask Itachi and I other things, and I get to watch Itachi casually stumble his way through trying to have conversations with others our age. The day Hideki proudly announces his new baby sister and starts a whole conversation about siblings with the group will forever remain in my heart. This was something Itachi knew, and whenever he spoke of little Sasuke his face softened and a blind man could see how much love he had in him for the toddler.

Every so often, I catch Itachi and Hideki talking about baby siblings during these little hangouts. It always makes me happy in a way I can't explain.

Some days, Itachi is lost in his own head, and I have to drag him out.

"My father took me to see a battle near the end of the war. I tried to give a man water, but...I killed him almost without thought when he turned on me. I dream about his eyes sometimes. I dream of that battlefield."

The day it all comes crashing down is only one week before the official end of our first year in the academy.

The mullet haired bully who Itachi so easily defeated while ago shows up, flanked by six or seven boys his age. They grin maliciously, probably hyped up on their impending graduation, and charge.

It's a flurry of activity, and I try my best to help my classmates and watch Itachi's back.

But Itachi is grabbed in a hold by two other boys, and is punched by mullet. I am entirely distracted as I see this.

Itachi pops from the punch.

There is an attack I didn't see coming when I watched my fellow clone disappear in front of witnesses, both student and teacher.

I pop seconds after him.

We are training with Shisui when the memories come. I listen as Itachi asks Shisui why we fight, and I listen to Shisui declare his wish to end it if he could.

"Me too." Itachi says, conviction clear in his voice. I bump my shoulder with his, glancing between the two Uchiha boys.

"Me as well." I echo back at them. It feels like a solemn vow, as if a pact was written in stone. Itachi and I turn our backs to Shisui, heading to face the music.

We wait outside a meeting hall as our respective teachers talk with the Hokage and his advisors. We are both given messages to take home to our respective guardians.

I am baffled when I am graduating. I knew Itachi graduated early, but….

I don't feel worthy of graduating. But I can agonize over that later, as I watch Itachi's face. He's closed himself off so tight that I cannot read him.

"I have a story for you, Itachi.

There once was a boy, whose Father knew the answer to every question. Trying to pull one over on his father, the boy asked, 'Father, what is the meaning of life?' But the Father only smiled and laughed, saying 'Ask me again when you are taller.'

So the boy grew, and when he was on the cusp of adulthood, he asked again. 'What's the point, what's the meaning of life?' But again, the Father only laughed and smiled. 'Ask me again when you are a man.'

Time passed, and the boy became a man, and that man was soon to become a father himself. But life was not kind, and the child was taken from the man far, far to soon. In a fit of madness, the man asked his father again, 'Please! There must be an answer to why? What is the meaning of life, if not to suffer?' The Father did not smile, did not laugh. He held his son tight, and said 'Ask me when I am old.'

Time passed. When the Father was laying, old and dying, his son came to him one last time. As was his way, the once-boy asked again. 'What was the meaning, Father?'

The Father only laughed, rearing his head back one last time. 'Ask me when I am dead!' This time, the son laughed to.".

Itachi frowned. "So he never got his answer…" His voice was quiet, dissatisfied. I nudged him with my elbow, and when he looked at me, I continued.

"The next morning, the Father was found to have passed away in his sleep. On his bedside table, was a book, with a letter a top addressed to his son, stating to open it only after looking through the book.

When the man opened it, it was filled with pictures and notes written in the Father's hand. Pictures from when the Father was holding a newborn baby, all the way through the rest of the Father's life til his death. The last picture in the book was of the Father, seated at a table with all his children and grandchildren around him. When the son opened the letter, all that it read was this.

'Here is your answer. This was my meaning.'"

Itachi looked at me. Dark, solem eyes peering deep into me, as he was trying to look past everything I was, to find something else within. I tried to grin, but it was a soft thing. I knew how much Itachi pondered this question, how much it pulled at his mind.

"I like to think that the answer is what we leave behind."

Itachi hummed low in the back of his throat. Above us, a crow cawed, and together we sat in the dying light of the day, knees touching and backs against the bark of a tree. Eventually, Itachi whispered a question, sounding for all the world like the child he was.

"But what about death?" I watch him, take in the way him shoulders seem just a fraction tighter then they should be, the twitch of his finger, the pace of his breathing. I look back out into the woods, watching the light make its final descent.

"Once I dreamed of two people, of Life and Death." This was a lie, it had rather been a simplistic comic someone had drawn, that stayed in my brain for moments like this. "Life and Death have been in love for longer then we have words to describe. Life sends Death countless gifts, and Death keeps them forever." I slumped, my body leaning on Itachi just a bit. I could practically feel the shock radiate through his body.

"But that is romanticized, for we both know death is rarely peaceful for people like us." The sun had finally fallen, somewhere beyond the tree's, leaving us in the soft darkness of early night. "So," I whisper, "I like to think this instead. Death is a necessity. If there was no death, life would never evolve, there would be no change, no dreams of greatness. Who wants to live a life that is easy?"  
Itachi leans back against me ever so slightly.

"But just because death must exist, doesn't mean it must be cruel. We ask the wrong questions sometimes. A death in battle is one thing, but a the fate of a man at our mercy is another. The true question is whether someone deserves to die or not. If you ask me, there is only one way to answer that." I press against him harder, just for a moment, soaking up the warmth he can offer as the temperature starts to drop around us. I stand, stretching as I do.

I dragged Itachi out here, having sent Shisui to summon him from his home, a few hours after the chaos of our sudden impending graduation was announced to our respective guardians. I know what kind of life we're heading towards, and I know Itachi knows this to. I spend days during my solitary training, trying to figure out something to say when this moment came, something to try to quell the question, quell the unease in him.

Itachi follows my example, standing and preparing to head home himself. "So, how do you answer it?" The quiet question hangs in the air, and I smile at my friend. He's so young, with a heart far to kind for this world. Itachi is a genius, this is true, but he doesn't have the emotional experience that I do, doesn't have memories of a world so different then this one, and all the awareness that came with it.

"Without bias."


	12. Interlude

A/N: I posted two chapters at once, please don't forget to read chapter 11~

Yasu Akiyama is a young boy, who jumped to the head of his class by a remarkable margin. If one wants to find him between classes at the Academy, they need only look to young Itachi Uchiha, and they will find Yasu strolling along at his back.

If you ask Itachi's class what they thought of young Akiyama, you will get two different answers. The girls will talk wistfully about how lucky he is to be so close to the other boy. The boys in Itachi's class will angrily snark about how Akiyama is just some lacky Itachi found to follow behind him. They will say he's just another arrogant kid who thinks he's better than them.

Itachi is a prodigy. He's so far ahead of everyone else that all the dust left in his wake has already settled long before anyone could catch up enough to see it. He is a quiet boy, who can not find it in himself to play the games of other children, focused on his own thoughts and his training. What others may think of as actively ignoring them, was just a little boy not paying attention to the world around him as seen through the eyes of others.

According to others, Yasu is also a prodigy.

If you ask Yasu's class their opinions of the blue-haired boy, the answers will be drastically different than what other children had to say about Itachi Uchiha.

This is what they will say about Yasu Akiyama.

The first week of school, Yasu Akiyama was a loner, quiet, with a dark look slowly over taking his face. He does not play their games, does not talk with them between classes. For the first two weeks of school, nobody in their class likes Yasu Akiyama.

After week one, Yasu was suddenly outside, always next to the Uchiha heir for lunch. It takes another week for someone to ask him to play with them, and those from Yasu's class who see the look on his face are left feeling mildly confused. Yasu didn't look uninterested in the game, didn't glare or somehow make them feel inferior. Instead, Yasu just looked small and scared. They glance at him occasionally for the rest of the lunch period, but he is always curled up, face hidden away and shaking.

For the first time, they feel sorry for the boy in their class. Soon after this, Yasu is suddenly pulling ahead in the class rankings, and the pity starts to fall away to bitterness. They won't say that Yasu was a step away from being another Itachi, liked and hated in equal measure, but always untouchable to his classmates, always quiet and lost in thought.

(This is what they don't know:

Yasu has already been the class clown in one life. He has already sat in a classroom, laughing and making silly faces and wild hand gestures while talking. He lived one life, so scared of the potential for being mocked and judged by classmates, that he acted out, lips loose with barely any filter. 'Let them mock me for what I want them to mock me for. They will never get to see past what I want them to. I am an actor, slipping into different skins as needed. My likes and loves are held close to my chest, untouchable and unmockable.'

But this is not that life, and Yasu is no longer a scared little girl. He has come to terms with himself, is comfortable with himself. So he no longer forces smiles in class, doesn't go out of his way to seek the attention of people he barely knows.)

This is what changes the tides.

"Ano...Akiyama-san? What's the answer to number four?"

When asked for help, Yasu lights up, putting down the twig he had been methodically stripping the bark from. He focuses all his attention on his classmate, offering either the answer or helping to guide the other student to the answer. He is not patronizing, only eager. When the answer is found, he turns back to quietly stripping bark.

This is what changes the tides.

Yasu doesn't talk with them about things they're interested in, doesn't play their games. He sits in class, reading ahead or writing notes that nobody gets to see, his chosen desk always has twigs and bark in two neat little piles.

But Yasu always, always helps anyone who asks. He does it almost without thinking. He is unfailingly polite when they make conversation with him. He has no qualms about sharing answers, always starting off with a quip about "not being liable for any wrong answers". He is humble, and when cleaning duties and the like are handed out, Yasu is always willing to do the job nobody wants to. He flows around their requests like water. Trading jobs for the day? Sure, Yasu doesn't mind. Doing both his job and your's because you have to be home as soon as you can for a family engagement? No problem, have fun.

His classmates say he is kind, mature. Compliments about everyday things aren't uncommon once they start engaging the blue-haired boy. I love your hair, that shirt is so cool, you did good today at taijutsu practice. There is no beat, no pause, the words and gestures simply roll of Yasu with no hint of deception.

(This is what the teachers will say:

Yasu is a prodigy. He helps all who ask, and despite his quiet nature when left alone, he interacts with others easily.

But above all, they will say that he helps others not for the glory of it, not to feel smart. It just happens, and when other children thank him, the teachers see how he tries to brush it off, as if he hadn't done enough in the first place.

It comes down to this: Yasu desires to be iuseful/i.)

If you ask Yasu Akiyama's class what they think of Itachi Uchiha, this is what they will say.

Itachi Uchiha is a genius, but he's quiet and sort of cold. But Yasu likes him, so he can't be that bad. With Yasu next to him, Itachi doesn't seem near as intimidating.

They will say that Itachi Uchiha isn't so bad.

When Itachi easily flips a bully, it is Yasu's own reputation and his ease with the dark haired boy that convinces a few taijutsu inclined classmates to approach. Those who asked to be taught the move he used against the older student in the hall, will say that never once did Itachi look down on them, but instead worked with his blue-haired friend to teach them the move in a way they can understand, and continued to talk to meet with them for taijutsu tips, and eventually, other conversations.

They will say that Itachi is a quiet genius. But they will also say that he to is kind, and a wonderful big brother to the baby brother he speaks so fondly of.

Itachi Uchiha is like the moon. Quiet, distant and dark. Black hair and eyes, dark clothes.

Yasu is like the sun. Bright cobalt hair, eyes like molten gold, clothes in soft neutral shades. Always shining, but never to be touched.

Two sides of the same coin.

(This is what they don't realize. Yasu is not the sun. Yasu is the earth. He supports and carries the weight others give to him without complaint. But he is always, always orbiting Itachi. Itachi, who is the sun. Who has a warmth to him that Yasu is always scrambling after, always wishing to bask in the light Itachi gives off, and drifting into cold loneliness when he is gone. Itachi is the sun. Dangerous to the touch, but envied and leaving others to work their way around him and the legacy he is leaving in his wake. It is through Yasu that others can get close to Itachi without burning.

The moon is but the expectations of the shinobi world. Always there, hiding away, the realities walking in the shadows of the night. It orbits both of them, always there, always the other half of their equation.

They are two sides of the same coin, but many have yet to realize the side they truly are. The first one to discover the truth of this is Shisui, who watches the boy he holds in his heart as a brother be shadowed by a boy perfectly content to walk with Itachi's back always to him, always just a step ahead.

This is what Shisui realizes.

Itachi will always push forward. Yasu will always follow.)

When Itachi and Yasu are found out to be graduating within the very same year, there are two reactions.

Itachi, who is talked about in hushed jealous whispers, with eyes on him from all directions, the weight of their expectations heavy and daunting.

Yasu, who walks without the overwhelming number of eyes on him, but with a small group of children and teachers who think nothing but, "I am glad.", with no trace of bitterness in their wistful tones. (Those who are glad for Yasu hold no bitterness for his Uchiha counterpart. Teachers with sharp eyes and minds make note of this.)

Of course, the two people who fail to realize any of these dynamics are the boys themselves. Itachi, who has not learned to look through the eyes of others, and Yasu who doesn't ever stop to realize the vast impact of his casual, instinctual actions.

When the Third Hokage is trying to place the boys into balanced teams, he looks at the reports and makes a decision. He wishes for nothing more than a peaceful childhood for the boys, just as he wishes for all children, but the push and shove of politics has denied them that. So, he makes the choice that he thinks will give them the best chance for whatever will remain of a happy childhood for the two of them.

This is what the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, decides.

He will not split up the boys.


	13. Genin Arc: Family

The moment it was decided that we would graduate next month with the upcoming class in the final days of December, my life was a whirlwind. Paperwork to be done in regards to my upcoming housing situation and subsequent release from the Orphanage's care, and all the paperwork needed to get me properly put into the shinobi system as a genin. The team assignments wouldn't be until January 1st, but that was coming up fast. It was somewhat of a blurr, still seeming so unreal to me.

This was probably going to be the most unreal of all. Me, standing in 'my' best clothes, escorted to the Uchiha Clan head's house by Shisui for dinner with Itachi's family on the last Sunday evening in November. The snow was finally staying on the ground for longer then 2 days, and it crunched under my feet as I shuffled anxiously. Winter did come to Konoha, but it wasn't nearly as long or cold as other places. We were after all, in the land of Fire.  
I was wearing a simple black yukata, old and somewhat worn, but clean and freshly pressed. Oba-san had to dig around in the orphanages clothing stock to find it, the bespectacled woman wanting to make sure I made a good impression. After all, when he spoke to her, Fugaku Uchiha had expressed the wish for me to join his family for dinner himself.

So here I was, standing in front of their door, seconds away from announcing my presence. My fingers twitched at my sides, a nervous tick Shisui picked up on almost the second it started, as he did my shuffling.

The older boy nudged me, and ruffled my pretentiously brushed hair back into a shaggy looking state. "It'll be ok, Yasu-chan. Fugaku-sama is only somewhat scary." He grinned. I puffed my cheeks out, and pouted. He grinned bigger, and I couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Thanks Shisui. I'm ready." I really wasn't, but that wasn't going to change anything. Shisui patted me on the shoulder, knocked on the door, and body-flickered away.

Fugaku Uchiha opened the door, stern face looking out at me from beyond the doorway. Long ash-brown hair framing his face, small black eyes. An imposing figure, radiating the same presence of all adults who were used to being respected.

Save for the casual teal and light-blue yukata, he looked just as he did in my memories of the night I meet him during the Kyuubi's attack. I closed my eyes and bowed.

"Thank you for inviting me to your home, Uchiha-sama." I could hear him hum as I straightened back out, but I could feel that his eyes never left me once.

"The pleasure is mine, please come in." He stepped aside, gesturing me into his home. I stepped past him, and slipped my shoes off, and then followed him deeper into the home. Itachi had told me once, that their original home was destroyed during the October attack, and well the original plans for the whole clan to be moved to the outskirts never came to fruition, his family had built a their home just outside the rest of the village. (Apparently, his father had become quite taken with the koi pond he had put in their yard.)

I was worried he was going to have a talk with me, much like Shisui had done when I first met him, but instead he led me into a living room, where Itachi was sitting on the floor playing with a small toddler. The second the sight of Itachi's dark hair filled my vision, all the tension in my shoulders fell away, and a smile replaced it on my lips.

"Itachi," Fugaku started, "your friend is here. Your mother will call when dinner is ready." With that, he glanced at me once, and walked deeper into the house. Itachi and I look at each other, and soon Itachi is smiling back at me, amusement in his black gaze. The toddler beside him looks at me, glares adorably, and clings to his brother with a pout. Itachi ruffles Sasuke's head affectionately as I come over to join them on the floor.

"Sasuke," he starts, poking the little boys forehead to get his attention. Sasuke stops glaring at me to look at his brother. "This is my friend," He says, tilting his head toward me, "his name is Yasu." The tiny dark-haired boy turns to me, little chubby face still managing to make an impressive glare in my direction. I beam at him, he's so adorable.

"Hi Sasuke! It's nice to meet you." I can tell he's not pleased to meet me. So young, and already so possessive of his brother, huh? "I have to admit, Sasuke-chan, I'm jealous of you." Itachi raises an eyebrow at me. The toddler narrows his eyes.

"Why?" Sasuke turns his head to press his face partially into Itachi's chest, so his word is slightly muffled. I grin as brightly, joy bubbling up in my chest at finally meeting Itachi's little brother. This Sasuke will hopefully never endure the trauma he was destined for, and for that I am happy.

"Why, because you're Itachi's favorite person in the whole world!" I wink at him, and Sasuke's eyes get very big.

He pulls his face from Itachi's chest, leaning closer to me. "Really?" Sasuke whispers, like it's come conspiracy he's being let in on. So cute. So tiny. So pure. I can't handle this.

"Really." I send an over exaggerated look Itachi's way, and obnoxiously raise a hand up as if to hide our conversation, whispering loudly as I do. "You're his favorite thing to talk about, so don't let him fool you into thinking otherwise." I toss a quick and obvious look over my hand at Itachi. He is trying very hard to not look amused, but I know better. Sasuke peeks out as well, and when I duck back behind my hand he follows me. Sasuke looks enraptured. "He likes to pretend he's all cool and collected, but the second you come up? He's just a big softy."

Sasuke pulls away, starry eyed, and he lurches into Itachi's chest, smiling. Itachi wraps his brother in a hug and gives me a look from over the little boys head.

I just smile back and wink. We both know it's true, after all.

Soon Itachi and I settle ourselves next to each other where we are on the floor as Sasuke toddles away to grab a toy laying a few feet away. When he comes back, the little guy is eager to pull me in his makeshift game of make-believe. Itachi takes a few moments to watch us, and I can tell he's pleased that we're getting along so well. Then, when Sasuke turns to Itachi expectantly, the other boy gives in with barely a token protest, and joins us in the game.

This is how Itachi's mother finds us about twenty minutes later. I perk up the second I see her come into the doorway, taking a moment to look at her. Her hair is dark, practically ebony, but it shines almost blue when the light hits it just right. Sasuke clearly got his looks from her, where Itachi's dark hair has the same ash-like quality of his fathers. Her smile is pleasant, eyes crinkling just so as she looks in on us.

"Boys." She speaks softly, but I suppose she doesn't need to speak any louder than that given the way her sons seem to perk up the second she opens her mouth. "Dinner is ready."

"Thank you mother, we will be there in a moment." Itachi speaks up, standing and scooping Sasuke into his arms in one fluid motion. I stand, following his lead.

"Thank you ma'am." I bow for her, just as I did her husband. Itachi steps away, whispering to Sasuke about washing hands.

"Yasu Akiyama, am I right?" She asks me, tilting her head, sizing me up. I don't know why she phrased it like a question, given she clearly knows that it is my name. I nod. She's more intimidating than her husband, holy shit.

"Yes. Thank you very much for inviting me to your home today." She smiles again.

"It's our pleasure, I assure you. I'm Mikoto. We're very happy to meet a friend of our son." Something clicks in my head. My lips twitch.

"Itachi doesn't talk about me much, does he?" Well, considering it's Itachi….I smile. "Or at all." Itachi's mother laughs, and suddenly she isn't so scary at all.

"Fugaku and I were very proud when we learned that Itachi would be graduating within a year." Mikoto says, leading me to a small bathroom so I can wash up quickly. She waits as I do so, and then gestures for me to follow again. "However, we were very surprised to find out he wasn't graduating alone. We asked him if he knew you, and he said you two were friends, but not much else."

I hum briefly. "Sounds like him." Mikoto hums back at me.

"It does, doesn't it?" She says, just as we enter the dining room, where the others are sitting, waiting for us. Itachi grimaces when he sees us together. I grin smugly. Oh, he absolutely knows we've been talking about him.

I am seated on a cushion next to Itachi, with Fugaku and Mikoto across the small traditional table, with Sasuke on a side by himself, just next to his mother. The two parents are making sure the toddler is settled and ready, so I take the sight before me.  
I am nervous now that dinner is about to start, but also excited. Well, excited for the food. A small gas stove sits in the middle of the table, with a clay pot. I've never had Nabe before, I knew the hot pot dish was a common winter dish, but the Orphanage didn't exactly plan their meals around the seasons. I could see a plate half-filled with tofu and various pieces of cut fish, as well as some mussels and whole pawn. Another plate had cabbage and leeks and several types of mushrooms (raw, and not filling the room with their terrible scent thankfully). Bowls of rice, some bowls of noodles, dipping sauce, various pickled vegetables, and a platter with several grilled saury piled on.

It looked like a traditional home cooked meal, the likes of which I hadn't had in years. Suddenly, I felt a deep sorrow swell up in my chest, my smile turning bitter for but a moment.

A poke in my side. I tilt my head, and there is Itachi, dark eyes questioning me silently. I shrug, but mouth one word toward him. "Later." He seems to accept my answer, and nods, turning back to the rest of the table, his parents finally settled in properly. I turn back as well.

Fugaku leads us, picking up his chopsticks, saying the first 'itadakimasu'. The rest of us follow.

The first few minutes of dinner feel natural, everyone being dished up, more items being placed in the clay pot to cook now that there is room.

My first bite of the cod from the pot is delicious, warm liquid spilling over onto the rice in my mouth… "This is delicious Mikoto-sama!" I beam at her.

She smiles back. "Thank you, Yasu-kun." I can see Fugaku eyeing me from next to his wife, and I know moments before he opens his mouth that it's show time.

"Akiyama-san, how long have you known our son?" His voice is low, his small black eyes lifting to stare me down.

"Ah." I rub the back of my neck. "Technically we met during the Kyuubi attack." Now Mikoto's eyes are on me as well. "He was kind enough to help me pass my thanks onto you and your men." Fugaku seems to look at me closely.

"Yes, I remember now. Your hair was longer then, wasn't it?"

I nod. "Yes, sir."

Itachi leans over the table to snag a few more pieces of tofu, joining the conversation as he did so, saving me from the full force of the interrogation. "Yasu-san sat with me during lunch." He blushes, a bit embarrassed. "Shisui suggested I invite him to train with us after school."

"That makes so much sense." I snicker, elbowing him. Itachi pretends he's not affected, pushing food into his face.

Fugaku takes a sip of tea. "When was that?"

"Ah, probably the third week of school?" Mikoto sends a glare at Itachi the second the words leave my lips.

"Itachi! Why didn't you invite him sooner? Your father and I would love to meet friends of yours." Itachi, for all his adult demeanor, looks every bit the embarrassed seven year old he is. I am not very good at hiding my snicker behind my own cup of (mmmh, jasmine) tea.

"Sorry Mother." Mikoto looks placated.

"Good." As she helps little Sasuke with some stay noodles on his chin, she throws me another look. "Tell us about yourself Yasu-kun."

Here we go.

Dinner with the Uchiha family goes well. For all that Itachi and Fugaku seem to be emotionally stunted, Mikoto seems to be a social butterfly, working everyone into the conversation at some point or another, even little Sasuke. Sitting with them, eating nabe, I can tell how much Itachi loves his family, and how much they love him. Perhaps they aren't the most physically affectionate of families, but Fugaku and Mikoto both glow with pride and love everytime they look at their son. It's a quiet sort of love, but powerful.

Mikoto brings out dango from Itachi's favorite place for dessert, and by the look of clear sudden wanting on his face, I can tell he hadn't known. Fugaku smiles from the corner of his mouth, looking at his eldest son.

It's a fun time, with Sasuke climbing into my lap near the end to sit closer to Itachi, and I end up sharing my stick of dango with him, having given Itachi the other when he looked a bit betrayed that I was sharing with Sasuke and not him.

("Don't complain Itachi, it's not like I don't share with you all the time anyway."

"I'm not complaining!"

"Ok, no pouting then."

"...I don't pout."

"You absolutely po-OW!"

"Boys."

"Sorry Mother"/"Sorry Mikoto-san")

By the end of the evening, once the dishes are done and put away (which I badgered my way into helping with, dragging Itachi with me to get what I wanted), and Fugaku had sent for Shisui to escort me back, I end up sitting on the porch waiting with Itachi and Sasuke. Sasuke is cuddled in Itachi's arms, passed out and oblivious to the rest of the world.

"I like your family. They're nice." Itachi hums beside me.

"Why did you look sad, when you sat down?" It would have been dumb to think he would have forgotten. I sigh, and steadfastly ignore the impulse to turn to look at my friend.

"The last time I'd had a meal like that...was with my father." I can hear Itachi's breath hitch for just a fraction of a second.

"You don't...talk about them. I thought…." I give in and look at him, and there is guilt in his face. I smile weakly.

"That I didn't remember them?" He nods. "No. I remember them. I remember a lot about them, even from when I was a baby." I lean forward, hunching over. In a rare display of physical affection, Itachi carefully scoots next to me, so our shoulders bump.

"I have my mom's eyes, you know. Probably my hair from her to, though her's was this...vibrant purple. My dad was pretty plain compared to her. Black hair and eyes to match."

"What happened to them?"

"My mom was a Ninja in the war. My most clear memories of her was her leaving with others through the gates, all decked out for battle. Each time my dad...he would have to bend down just to kiss her goodbye. I think she was short." I lean against the other boy, soaking up the comfort. My touchy-feely nature is rubbing off on him. "She was gone more than she was around. I barely remember her, in the long run. She died, right before the war ended."

"I'm sorry."

"My da-...he lived for her, I think. He was a real homemaker, and whenever Mom was home we'd have these elaborate family dinners every night. I haven't had something like tonight since….since he died." I don't say anything more, and Itachi doesn't push. He waits with me until Shisui comes. I'm grateful.

After that, every week Itachi brings me an invitation for dinner with his family on the upcoming Sunday. It's nice, and I make sure to pay his family back by telling them all about our week at the Academy. (At this point, our attendance is just a formality, though we no longer use clones. Now, our clones go off to do chakra control exercise instead.)

When I tell them about our little Taijutsu group, Itachi's parents are ecstatic. The next time we meet up, Itachi brings treats, courtesy of his mother. Hideki even gets something to bring home for his sister.

The last month passes quickly, and before I know it Itachi and I are sitting in a classroom, new shinobi headbands tied to our heads, awaiting assignments.


	14. Genin Arc: 321-

Here's the thing.

Konoha, like other ninja villages, have had young prodigies before.

But here's the thing.

Prodigies, when they appear, are a once in a generation occurrence. Sometimes one in every two generations. To have two in the very same year? Both graduating at the same time?

It's unprecedented.

To keep them together?

Unheard of.

Here is the issue the Third Hokage has created.

He has two seven year old prodigies already selected for a what would be a three-man team. Children can be prideful, jealous creatures. And children who were previously top of their class being upstaged by a much younger student?

The first few months, sometimes even years, are always filled with strife. More so than usual for Genin teams.

Itachi Uchiha is a quiet boy. Quiet, but brilliant by all accounts. Like most prodigies before him, he doesn't interact well with his classmates. Well not dismissive of them, the boy doesn't instigate interactions with his classmates. Within his own classroom, and even beyond, Itachi is both loved greatly, and hated viciously. For geniuses like him, this is common.

Had Itachi graduated by himself, he would have been placed with a Genin-team like normal, because of the way Genin teams were balanced.

The students are told they are placed according to their class rankings. A balance of strong and weak. This is true. But what they are not told, is that for the duration of their time in the Academy, personality profiles are meticulously made on each of them.

Who is aggressive? Who is laid back? Who will stop a fight? Who will not? All the students must be labelled as either a Mediator, or not.  
All of this must be considered when creating Genin teams. Well it is true that the majority of the Jonin tested teams fail, it cannot be said that they are not given the best possible chance to succeed.

Itachi is the kind of student who won't start a fight, but won't stop one, and may even finish one. Each team must always have a mediator, and Itachi is not a mediator.

Yasu Akiyama, however, is.

Like Itachi, Yasu is a quiet boy. Quiet, but by all accounts brilliant. However, unlike Itachi and the prodigies before him, Yasu interacts very well with his classmates. He may be the top of his class, but multiple reports have noted that no one in his class resents him, not like genius typically are, even by the more naturally aggressive of his classmates. The fact that through Yasu's actions, Itachi has been reported to become more social, is a clear indicator of the boy's potential as a mediator.

Had Yasu been older, he would have been the perfect mediator for Itachi's genin team. But he is not, and therein lies the problem.

Having one early graduate on a genin team is difficult enough. Having two would be nigh impossible. No student assigned to a team with two younger genin would do well, as the negative emotions would most likely overwhelm them. A younger mediator would be worthless, themselves being a source of tension.

By nature of the shinobi profession, there are far more aggressive natured graduates then mediators. In order to ensure every possible team had a mediator, no team would ever be assigned two mediators.

Here lies the problem.

There are simply no viable options for a third teammate, not without risking the education and _life_ of the chosen student.

It's a good thing then, that shinobi are by nature and necessity, adaptable.

Unconventional problem? Unconventional solution.

Kakashi Hatake was perhaps the greatest genius Konoha ever produced. Genin at 5, Chunin by 6, Jonin by 12. When he graduated, the Third Hokage had a similar problem. No way to assign him a Genin team without unbalancing it. So, he was taken as an apprentice, and put on a team when his once age-mates graduated.

No, the two graduating boys couldn't be placed on a full team. But apprenticed?

Now that, the Hokage could do.

My headband was an unfamiliar weight, both literally and metaphorically. Waiting for assignments with Itachi isn't all it's cracked up to be, not with so many angry eyes on us. I'm slumped over on my desk, head nestled into my arms just enough to be comfortable but still let me see, but Itachi is sitting next to me with perfect posture, for all appearances calm and unaffected. I know better. His face is made of stone, but his chair is pulled a bit closer to mine than the chairs would normally be placed. Then again, my chair is also pulled closer in his direction then they normally would. We're in hostile territory, after all. It's only smart to stick close to the only ally and friend we have.

When the teacher arrives, we all go through the motions. Stand, greet, sit back down. The air is thick with tension, all of us nervous. Our fate is about to be decided, and we know it. Everyone is paying attention, everyone ready. The teacher just looks at us long and hard, and then starts reading off teams.

"Team One-" I close my eyes, and wait.

I don't hear my name, or Itachi's name in that first team.

Or the next.

Team by team, everyone is assigned. Everyone but us. It's like being picked last for dodgeball, but so much fucking worse. At least in this life I would kick ass at dodgeball. Now though, now we are last, and there is no one else to be assigned. The one team assigned without enough members was told that their last remaining teammate would join them after lunch, when the Jonin arrived. Itachi and I are both tense, and the smug glares of petty children are aimed at our backs.

The teacher collects their papers, taps them against the wood once, twice, and finally three times to align all of them.

"Uchiha and Akiyama, your Sensei will be along shortly. Everyone else, please return in one hour for your Sensei's to collect you. Dismissed." They turn to walk out without a second glance. Other students snicker as they pass, or whisper to themselves.

It's amazing, the power children have. To isolate each other and make those they rally against feel weak, worthless. Itachi may be smarter than quite a few adults, but he wasn't immune. I may have already lived to adulthood once, and I wasn't even immune. For all intent and purpose, I am still seven, with hormones to match.  
Under the table, I nudge Itachi's leg with my foot. When he turns, I give him a shaky smile.

"We're in this together, right?" Whispered words, unheard by the last stragglers leaving the room.

Itachi's eyes soften. "Right." My chest doesn't feel quite as tight.

"Right." I echo back. Breathe in, breathe out. Inhale, fill your body with smoke. Hold it, one second, two. Let it out on three.

I'm calmer. I'm ready.

We wait, 5 minutes, then 6. At the 7 minute marker, the door opens, and just as Itachi and I straighten our backs, a man in traditional Jonin uniform strolls in.

Lazy, relaxed strides. Goatee on the chin, two slash-like scars on the left side of his face. Black hair pulled tight into a spiky, pineapple-like ponytail.

Shikaku Nara looks at us, small black eyes sizing us up.


	15. Genin Arc: Dramatic First Impressions

Shikaku Nara looks at us, head tilted to the side, watching us. Itachi and I are frozen, looking down at the Jonin who stands below us. For all that the man is relaxed in posture, his eyes are sharp. Deadly. The look of a predator, a killer. A real, battle-tested and true shinobi. I am struck with a sudden, and deep realization that compared to this man, I am nothing. Less than a bug about to be crushed underfoot.  
The air is thick with tension, heavy and oppression. Everything is cold and my hands begin to shake. He's just...watching me….judging me...hunting-

I'm going to die here. I have to get out, run-I can't move! He's going to kill m-!

The tension in the air snaps, like a rubber band pulled too far finally giving up. The once heavy air dissipates, blown away like it was never there at all. The moment my brain processes this, I am lurched over my desk, gasping for breath, sweat dripping from my brow onto the desk. Droplets of sweat land between where my fingers grasp at the wood, reflecting the light from above. I feel shaky. I pull back up, and then I realise Itachi is stock-still beside me. His already pale skin is stark-white, sweat on his brow, chest rising in that shaky way that says he's breathing hard. Slowly, Itachi looks back at me. I swallow harshly, my throat dry.

What was that?

"That," Shikaku says, our attention honing onto him like a laser. Had I spoken those words instead of thought them? "Was lesson one." A beat passes, the words sinking in. "No matter how good you think you are, someone's better." He straightens up, relaxed to military perfect in a smooth motion. "That someone can kill you."

The message is obvious. In this moment, Shikaku is that someone. He is better than us, plain and simple. He could kill us, if he wanted to. If he was ordered to.

It is…...a sobering first impression.

"Being a shinobi is more than being the strongest on the battlefield. It's more than being the smartest in the room." Shikaku speaks slowly, voice firm in that way I've found leaders to have. A deep voice, that tremors like a growl with each word. He looks at Itachi for a long moment, and then he turns to me. Dark eyes peer deeply into me, I cannot look away.

The Nara suddenly relaxes. Hands pushed into his pockets, shoulders gone lax. He grins, in a sort of roguish way, "Come on boy's, let's get lunch."

Itachi and I are out of our seats and following before he can even fully turn around towards the door, dogging at his heels like pups.

Shikaku-sensei never moves faster than a lazy stride, perfectly paced so I don't have to hurry to keep up. He takes us directly to a izakaya, ducking into the building like he belongs there. Given how nobody even gives us a second glance or stops to ask why he's bringing two children into a drinking establishment, I gather that he probably does. He leads us back to a table in the corner, with a game board placed on top.  
He ushers Itachi to one side, and me to the other, well taking the spot against the wall for himself. As I lower myself onto the mat, I realise the game board, is infact, a shogi board. I can't help the twitch of my lips. Shogi and a Nara, what a stereotype.

As Itachi and I got settled, Shikaku had already waved a waitress over and made a quiet order using numbers that I guessed correlated to a menu. Then, he settled against the wall, and looked back at us.

"Alright boys, you know how to play?"

Itachi, the traitor, nodded sharply in the affirmative. I grimace. "No, sensei."

Shikaku-sensei grinned, sharp and pleased. "Time to learn."

Shogi as it turns out, is like a more complicated version of chess. Each player has twenty pieces: one King, two Gold Generals, two Silver Generals, two Knights, two Lances, one Rook, one Bishop and nine Pawns.  
Every piece has its own distinct movement pattern, and all pieces aside from the King and Gold Generals can be promoted, which changes their movement pattern to that of a Gold, or in the case of the Rook and Bishop, like a King. Pieces can be captured, and then later added to one's own forces.

Shikaku-sensei tells me the rules and movement patterns only once, and I do my best to burn everything he tells me into my memory. Memorizing things immediately, often after one listen or read through, is a skill that every shinobi needs. Even from day one, it's something every teacher at the Academy tries to instill. Normally, one has the entire duration of the Academy to practice this. I had one year.

Well, one year for me, as well as a previous life and theater experience. Memorizing lines and monologues is surprisingly a helpful starting point when it comes to Shinobi-level information retainment.

Once Sensei finishes teaching me, the waitress returns with a warm bottle of sake for Sensei, and some tea for me and Itachi. I pour Itachi a cup, having grabbed the teapot as soon as it was set down. When I pour myself a cup, I hold it in front of my nose to sniff. Sweet, like caramel. Hojicha tea then. A good choice on Sensei's part. My first sip is pleasantly hot on my tongue, sweet and relaxing. Beside me, Itachi also takes a drink, and Sensei shoots back a cup of sake.

"Jaaa." Shikaku-sensei has a smile on his face, as he sets his cup down.

"Alright boys, setup the board. Itachi, take white, Yasu, black." We do as instructed, and as we set up (Itachi moves like he knows what he's doing, and I watch closely and imitate him) the wooden pieces make a pleasant clicking noise as they are placed.

"From this day on," Shikaku starts, "I will be your Jonin-sensei." I make my first move, the click of my piece softly echoing in my ears.

"Due to the unique situation the two of you have caused, you will not have a third team member. Rather," he says, "I have taken you two on as apprentices."

"What will that entail, Sensei?" Itachi asks, swiftly making his own move. Bleh, I have no idea what I'm doing. I move a random pawn, and call it good.

Shikaku hums, pouring himself another cup of sake. "Apprenticeships are usually untaken after the student has spent time in a Genin-team, and have a good handle on the basics." He drinks the cup, setting it down to the side. "An apprenticeships primary function, is to train the student in the specialized skills of the master, and all the little details they require."

A beat passes, and our gaze shifts from the playing board to our new sensei. He looks solem, and focused.

"An apprenticeship is longer than most, if not all, Genin-teams training years. A regular Jonin-sensei teaches you all of the basics and ensures you have the skills to move on to Chunin. They do guide your training, however, most Shinobi don't pick-up their specialities until they become Chunin. By Chunin, most Genin-teams dissolve."  
Shikaku-sensei leans forward, making sure he has our full attention. "That will not be the case with me." He speaks slowly, deep voice steady, making sure we hear each and every word.

"I am Konoha's Jonin Commander. I represent the Shinobi forces of Konoha. I advise the Hokage, and when the time comes, I will help select the new Hokage." I hang on every word the older man speaks. "The two of you," he gestures briefly to us, "have created a stir in your graduation. Konoha is no stranger to genius Academy graduates. Most of the time, they can be assigned a team as normal. Other times, such as this, they are apprenticed. Due to the nature of your situation, you two will be kept together as a unit."

Shikaku smiles, sharp and not quite pleasant. "The two of you are geniuses. You may be used to being the top of your class, being the smartest, being the best. That is going to change. The Chunin instructors may not have had much to teach you, but I do."

Once more, Shikaku reminds me of a predator. A hunter ready to strike. This time however, the intent isn't thick in the air, and I feel no fear, only tight-chested anticipation.

"There are many eyes on the two of you. The heir to the Uchiha Clan, and an orphan boy, both graduated together within a year. Itachi," Shikaku looks at the black haired boy, "there are many people with high expectations for you. Those people will expect you to thrive, and judge you harshly for any failures." Itachi nods solemnly, brow furrowing in that way it does when he's processing things deeply in that head of his.

Shikaku turns then to me, dark eyes locking onto my golden one's. "Yasu. Different eyes watch you. Well Itachi represents the thriving and excellence of the Clans, you represent equal opportunity to civilians. To them, you are the proof that anyone of any background can stand on equal footing with the clan-born shinobi. They will hold you as an example, and should you fail, they will curse you for falling from the pedestal they put you on, and the hope they linked to you." A shiver runs down my spine.

The man runs a finger over the rim of his sake-cup, letting the information sink in. My fingers clench onto my cup, my breathing hitches in my throat. I know without a doubt, that Shikaku must be cataloging each and every tick I'm displaying.

"I told you," Shikaku continues, "being a shinobi is more than being the strongest, or the smartest. I will teach you what it means to be a shinobi. I will teach you, and you will learn. No one will ever doubt you of being anything less than the best shinobi you can be. More than power, more than unrivalled intelligence, I will teach you what it means to be a shinobi." Shikaku Nara's voice leaves no room for doubt. My heart pounds in my tiny little chest, raging like a beast ready to roar.

I believe him, with every fiber of who I am, I believe this man in this moment, that under him I can learn, not to be a powerful shinobi, but a good one. It is a breathtaking moment, powerful.

This is the point where the waitress comes back, settling down two plates of yakitori, and another one of gyoza. Shikaku thanks her, and turns back to give Itachi and I another roguish grin. The moment has broken now, the powerful feeling swept away by the casual air that lunch brings with it.

"Alright boys, that's enough for today. I promised lunch, didn't I?" Itachi and I glance at each other, him with the smallest of hesitant smiles, and me with an excited grin. I think this is going to work out well.

Time for lunch- "Ooooh, is that asparagus? YOINK!" I snatch up both skewers of aforementioned vegetables before Itachi even realises my intentions.

"Yasu!" Itachi hisses, puffing up like an indigent kitten. He quickly grabs a couple skewers for himself, making sure I'm not taking all of his favorites, glaring at me from overtop of one as he takes a bite. I smile broadly back. Beside us, Shikaku huffs out a low chuckle, pouring himself another glass of sake, smiling over the rim of the cup.


	16. INTERLUDE - A Sensei's Duty

Within days of the decision that the two first year Academy students would graduate with the next class come December, Shikaku Nara was called into the Third Hokage's office. The meeting was long, with pros and cons of each potential Jonin fully explored. An apprenticeship was vastly different from a Genin-team, and not every Jonin was suitable. More to the point, not every Jonin suitable would be willing.

An apprenticeship would mean that all the skills of the Sensei had to be passed on. It was, simply put, like the passing of the torch. Preparing the chosen student to one day serve the function of the teacher. Normally, the student would be close to being a teenager when the apprenticeship was decided. By then, the students would have already formed skills and preferences in their pursuits of the Shinobi Arts. These children were both seven years of age. Young, untested, fresh slates.

A good apprenticeship, this early, could turn them into prizes of the Leaf. Shinobi upheld throughout the village as prime examples of the villages strength. A bad apprenticeship, and it could ruin them.

Shikaku and The Third discussed it for days. Shikaku read all the Chunin Instructors reports, watched the boys from a distance, gathering all the information he needed to make an informed decision. For days, Shikaku's mind whirled. What kind of apprenticeship should they have? Where could they succeed? Interrogation? Medical? Information? Sealing? Front-line Assault? What did they need from a sensei?

That was the question that followed Shikaku home at night. That ran around his head as he tended the deer, as he took his shoes off in the entrance of his house, and as he sat at the empty dinner table, toddler asleep in his lap. Shikaku ran his fingers through little Shikamaru's hair, slowly and repeatedly. It was soothing, the boy's hair soft and silky. A part of him, the part that fought in a long and bloody war, liked the reminder that the little boy was alive, was safe. It calmed him, made it easier to think.

What didn't make it easier to think, was the whack to the back of his head.

"Ow-Damn it woman!" Shikaku hissed, ducking away incase his wife decided to strike again. "What was that for?"

"For brooding at the table." Yoshino declared, unrolling the towel from the whip she had probably used to smack him. "You've been stuck in that head of your's all evening." She glared, the look on her face she got when she wasn't going to take any sort of nonsense. "The least you can do is help get Shikamaru ready for bed."

"Hah!" Shikaku smirked, gesturing to his little boy. "Can't you see he's already sleeping, woman? Just plop him in the bed and be done with it!"

She rolled her eyes. "Very funny." She cuffed him on the back of the head with her palm. "Get going."

"You heard the boss," Shikaku whispered, shifting Shikamaru up into his arms. "Time for bed, kiddo." Shikamaru yawned, little black eyes blinking slowly.

"...was sleeping…" The little boy murmured through another yawn, snuggling into his father's neck.

He couldn't help smiling. "That's what I said too." Shikaku took a minute to kiss the toddlers head, breathing in the soft smell of musty paper. Seems the kid was in the books again. His heart warmed, and he allowed his mind to settle for now.

Shikamaru was bathed, and dressed in soft green pajamas with little deers on them. The toddler looked ridiculous, and he loved every second of it. This particular pair was a gift from Choza for Shikamaru's birthday back in September. It had been a joint birthday for him and Ino, and Choza had given Inoichi a little purple pair with tiny brains on them for Ino. Shikaku smiled at the memory, as he laid his son down to bed.

He stood there a little while, leaning against the doorway to his son's room, just watching. Savoring the moment. Yoshino found him after a while, snuggling into his side to watch with him. Wrapping his arm around her, he pressed a kiss to her hair.

He liked the reminder that she was alive, even so long after the war had ended.

"So, you going to tell me what you've been thinking about, Shikaku?" Yoshino asked later that night, as they settled into bed.

Shikaku turned the lights off, and laid back. "Picking a Jonin to apprentice those two boys to."

Yoshino rolled into his side, looking up at him from the dark. "Well, what's taking so long, genius?"

"I can't figure it out, Yosh." He told her. "This decision could make or break those two kids. I can't figure it out. What will they need the most? What skill, what lessons. Apprenticeships aren't picked, they're chosen, you know that. How are we supposed to decide what they need to learn most? To master?"

To his surprise, Yoshino started laughing.

"Oi!" Shikaku sat up in bed, his wife rolling away from him, still laughing. "This is serious woman!"

Yoshino sat up and smacked him uptop the head again, laughter dying down. "Fool man!" She teased. "I thought the answer to something like that would be obvious."

"Enlighten me then." Yoshino reached over, pulling them both down and back onto the bed. She curled up into his side, arm thrown over his waist to keep him down.

"All those two kids need, at the end of the day, is to be taught how to be good Shikaku." She whispered into his neck. He could feel her smile against his skin. "There is more to being a Shinobi than what skills we know, fool man."

"Huh." Shikaku couldn't think of a response to that.

"Go to sleep, fool."

He did, and the next day he walked into the Hokage's office with an answer. Honestly, he should have just asked his wife sooner.

Shikaku spent a long time getting ready for his new apprentices, in addition to his usual workload. Preparing for the Uchiha wasn't the problem. He didn't request information on the boy, rather, he went to a more direct source. Fukagu was the same as ever, but Yoshino and Shikamaru had a pleasant time with little Sasuke and Mikoto. It was an insightful visit for Shikaku, if nothing else.

Young Akiyama required quite a bit of paperwork. Requests to the housing departments and financing, and preparing legal emancipation for the new Genin were only a few of the many things Shikaku had to do.

Very early on, Shikaku had found out the full scope of what Yasu would be receiving upon reaching majority, or in this case, Genin rank. But knowing was one thing, and now Shikaku sought to understand. It was simple to request the files he needed.

Azami Akiyama, born Azami Hayashi. Chunin Leven shinobi of the Leaf, only child of Saburo and Miyu Hayashi, civilians of the Leaf. The Hayashi couple, already old when Azami was born, passed away during a particular bad flu season when Azami was 22.

Eiji Takahashi, Iwa born civilian from a coastal fishing village. Mission records show that Azami was assigned a team who passed through that particular village well on a joint escort mission with an Iwa team. Two years later, Eiji had moved to Konoha and gone through a rigorous background check before becoming a Konoha citizen.

Three years later, Eiji and Azami, 26 and 23 respectively, were married, taking on the last name Akiyama. Around a year later, Yasu was born, and soon after the War started.

Being the only living relative in the Land of Fire, as well as their son, Yasu was left everything upon his parents demise. Their home was fully paid for by time of Eiji Akiyama's death, and so the whole property and and all the property and money of the Akiyama family was sealed up to wait for Yasu to reach his marjory and claim it.

Shikaku couldn't help but think that it was to soon. The boy was 7, not a man grown. Legally however, he had to claim it. Shikaku started on that paperwork with a heavy heart.

After that, he took a trip out to the orphanage where Yasu called home well the boy was away, and sat down with Nonō. They had a long, long talk.

Shikaku never planned to have students. Not once, during all of his preparations, does he ever feel ready. There is a difference in commanding full grown shinobi, in making the choices that always, always run the risk of shinobi not returning. He deals with the most sensitive information there is, his words always have a place in the Hokage's ears. The burden on his shoulders as Jonin Commander is a large and heavy one.

And yet…..

The burden of Sensei-ship looms over him. Nothing about what he does is safe or suitable for fresh Genin. For children. He doesn't feel ready.

The days count down, sand in the hourglass, and soon he is collecting his young students from the Academy.

Lunch is good, and watching the boys interact right in front of him is interesting. Itachi clearly knows his way around a shogi board, which seems to help Yasu a great deal. Shikaku can see the way Yasu watches and imitates his friend. The blue-haired boy doesn't seem all that interested in winning, but Itachi plays the game as if winning is his only goal.

( "You have no mercy in your soul Itachi, I thought we were friends?"

"...I also thought we were friends?"

"You wound me! The cruelty in your soul causes mine to wither, Uchiha."

"Yasu...have I actually-"

"Itachi. I'm being dramatic. I'm teasing, ok? Next time, just tell me to 'suffer' or something. Now come on, I call dibs on white this time.")

By time the food is long gone, shogi packed away, the sake and tea drank, Shikaku is as ready as he's going to get for the next part of his day. "Alright boys," he says, watching as they straighten to attention at the sound of his voice. "I'll be meeting with both of you separately over the next two days. Itachi, meet me tomorrow at Training Ground 34, 6am sharp, Yasu, you'll meet me there yourself the day after Itachi." A beat, a breath, he's not ready but it must be done.

"Yasu." The boy looks at Shikaku so openly, so earnestly with excitement in his gold eyes. He is a shinobi. A sensei now. He will do his duty. "You and I have some legal things to go over. Itachi, dismissed."

Shikaku gets up to pay, leaving the boys to their goodbyes for the day. His heart is heavy, but the day is young. From the corner of his eye, he can see the boys parting ways with little fanfare. The Uchiha Heir leaves, and the orphan boy makes his way to Shikaku's side. They stand for a good two minutes in silence, as Shikaku gets his receipt. Without speaking, Shikaku leaves, and Yasu follows.

He waits until they're onto the streets to begin.

"So." The boy perks to attention, eager and young. "How much do you know about the housing system?"

The boy is prompt in his response. "I will be assigned an apartment in the Genin Apartment Complex, first 3 months rent paid to give me a cushion to get started with. When I eventually become a Chunin, I will be required to move out and find my own place. I know utilities are included in rent for the Genin complexes."

Shikaku nods. "This would be true."

"Would?" He sounds confused when he echos the word back to Shikaku.

"Applications for Genin Apartments must be submitted 1 year prior to the anticipated move-in date. That is because spots are limited, and only open up 2 times per year." He explains, turning off of the busy Market District streets and towards a Residential zone.  
"The number of requested apartments has an impact on how many Genin are nominated for each round of the Chunin Exams. In turn, the number of available apartments impact the Academy's graduation rates. Some might go straight into Corps, some might be asked to attend the Academy for an extra semester or year."

Yasu nods, mulling over the information. "I'm assuming grades and performance reviews are the deciding factor for the Corps Vs. Academy?"

Good observation. "Correct."

"Then my own graduation probably threw everything out of whack right?" Shikaku raises an eyebrow at his student.

"Out of whack?"

"Out of order," he clarifies.

"Then yes, you would be correct. The GC buildings are already full this year, and postponing your graduation isn't possible. Instead, you've been assigned a building in the V-O-S-C. Village Operated Shinobi Complexes." Shikaku gestures to the buildings around them now, having officially entered the Southern Residential district of the Village. The boy looks around, his shoulders held tightly. The Nara makes note of the boys reactions, but moves right along.

"The VOSC helps house a great majority of Konoha's forces. Many of the buildings were purchased from Civilians and converted, some specially designed. They are spread out evenly throughout the village." Shikaku stops in front of a building, looking upwards.

The building is 4 stories high, and unassuming, blending right in with the other housing in the district. "This will be where you live."

Yasu lets out a shaky breath. "Ok."

Shikaku leads him to the stairs, and begins to climb.

"This particular building was civilian designed and operated for a number of years, but was purchased by the Village after The Kyuubi Attack. For the most part, the apartments are fine for most Shinobi. However, all the corner apartments in this building are smaller inside, but with more balcony access." He explains. "Most Shinobi avoid these particular types of apartments."

"Easy to get into?" Yasu asks. Shikaku nods, turning up the last flight of stairs.

"Precisely. The corner apartments like this one have 2 sliding glass doors for balcony access, rather then one. Luckily, that means the apartment is also cheaper when Shinobi are the one's renting." Once on the top floor, Shikaku heads left, towards the apartment door on the end.

The number on the door is 401. Shikaku, having already been here, pulls the key out of his pocket, and unlocks the door. It swings open, and Shikaku strolls in, and steps back for his student.

Yasu enters slowly, little gold eyes taking up every inch of the place. There is no real excitement in his body posture, which is strange. Rather, the little boy goes slowly, unbelieving. In that moment, Shikaku would swear that he almost looked sad, wistful. It's a disconcerting thing to see on a seven year old.

The apartment itself is indeed small, only 550 sqft, not including the balcony. With white walls and its wooden floors, the little room soaks up the sunlight from the sliding doors and windows. Directly to the left is most of the open space in the apartment, with the door being flush with the right-most wall when fully opened. The kitchen is straight ahead, shaped like a U tipped on its side, stove against the wall and sink on the counter directly in front of the door, the modest-sized fridge directly across from it. Cupboards are against the wall, with open-faced shelves making a sort of half-wall above the sink.

The bathroom is right on the other side of the kitchen, featuring: a small soaking tub, sink with shower-head attachment, a medicine cabinet above that, and a toilet.

Aside from that, the apartment didn't come with anything else. Shikaku did manage to get ahold of a bed and sheets, a table set, and a wardrobe. All the standard furniture the boy would have had in a normal GC apartment.

He'd taken the liberty of putting the bed in the northwest corner, and the small table and it's four chairs in front of the kitchen. The wardrobe he'd put against the bathroom wall, making sure it was flush with the fridge.

It's a modest apartment, and to Shikaku it feels cramped. Still, it's not his opinion that matters.

Yasu walks the apartment slowly. He's not quite tall enough to use the kitchen properly, but he runs his fingers along the entirety of the counter. Shikaku watches the boy prop himself against the sink so he can test it, before checking the stove and it's oven. Almost meticulously, the little boy checks everything in the single-room apartment. From the wardrobe to the two sets of sheets (One set a dark grey, the other Nara green) Shikaku purchased for the bed. When there is nothing left inside for him to look at, the boy opens the northern sliding doors, and steps out onto the balcony.  
The balcony, Shikaku knows, runs uninterrupted along the north and west walls, until it ends where the apartments southern and eastward walls begin. He'd already took the liberty of setting up the wires for clothes drying on the north-east corner balcony.

After a while, Shikaku can't watch his student's quiet and unsettling inspection of his new home. So, he sets out all the paperwork left to do for this part of the day on the table, waiting for the boy to come to him.

Eventually he does. Yasu steps back in, closing the door behind him. He seems more peaceful now, and comes without being asked to sit with Shikaku.

The boy smiles a little bit. "Thank you Sensei."

Shikaku's lips twitch in a smirk, "Don't thank me yet, kid." He gestures to the paperwork, and Yasu seems to get the joke.

Shuffling through the papers, Shikaku gets started.

"This will be your renter's agreement." He pushes a packet into the space between them. "It has your monthly rent on it, as well as the rules of the complex. As long as you fix whatever you did before you leave, the VOSC doesn't care what goes on in here. As per the usual agreement for those in your position, the lease will last until you're promoted, at which point you can renegotiate if you wish to remain" Yasu nods, already reading through the papers for the details.

"You are not required to remain the whole time, but there is a fee for breaking the lease. There is a spot for you to sign on the last page, stating you have read and agreed to the terms."

Yasu signs a few moments later. "Will I get a copy of this?" He asks.

A good question to have asked. "Copies of all the documents today will be mailed to you, as well as receipts showing the 3 months paid for by the village."

"Now," Shikaku continues, "I have already received your starting funds, as we don't be taking any missions for a while. After we're done here, we can go out to purchase some basics for you. You will need new shinobi-grade clothes as well." He takes a moment to center himself.

Shikaku knows there is no more stalling. Hopefully, the boy would understand the decisions he'd already made, and agree to allow Shikaku to go through with it.

"Yasu." Shikaku says the boy's name slowly, causing the little boy to look up, at attention immediately. "We need to go over some things, regarding your parent's wills."

Shikaku should have known better than to think this part of the day would have gone easily.


	17. Genin Arc: Face The Shadows

**Hey Guys! Author here. I was a horrible person and didn't cross post a bunch of chapters, so now we have some rapid updates.**

 **That being said, previous chapters are now ALSO updated, so it may be best to reread a bit to catch up with any changes. Nothing all that major, I promise! Thanks for waiting, enjoy the rest of the chapter guys!**

 _PS: If anyone would like to potentially help me as a beta, I would be super thankful. Send me a PM if you're interested._

It's bittersweet, the apartment Shikaku-sensei presents me.

It's perfect. Small, comfortable. Beautiful view, wooden floors, a small wet-bath for a bathroom. It's mine now. All mine, 7 years to late, several years to soon. I try to think back to my dreams of before, of the house I wanted and the life I wanted to live. (The memories come, crystal clear in a way they never had before my death. But what I want from the memories doesn't come, so I tuck that away to.)

Sensei gives me all the information about my new apartment in neatly done packets of paperwork. A signature here or there to make things official. Things go downhill, when Sensei says my name slowly. Deliberately.

It sets the mood for the next few minutes of my life _very_ well.

 _When Shikaku brings up the fact that Yasu has inherited from his deceased parents, the little boys eyes dim. He can practically see the boy recoil into himself. The child's face is blank. But his shoulders shake the tiniest bit, his skin a shade more pale._

 _Shikaku thinks back to Nonou, and their talk. All genius aside, Shikaku remembers the woman giving him details of a little boy, who in the dead of the night made horrible, terrible cries. Of a boy who would whisper for his father when he slept, and could be seen waking up with tear stains on his face._

 _Shikaku thinks back to a report written the very day after the war was declared ended. Of a coroner's report on how long the victim had been dead before it was reported. Of crime-scene pictures, and a boy in blood stained pajamas._

I don't want the house. I never want to step inside ever again. All I can think of is blood on tile, and a cold lap.

I am trying, very, very hard to keep it all together.

Sensei takes me to the bank first. To file all the paperwork and transfer money into my new shinobi-grade account. He had already made arrangements and lined up a buyer incase I wanted to sell the house, and given that the potential buyer was a member of his clan, he could make the sale and pay me immediately. The clan member would make normal payments back into the clan's funds apparently. The entire time, I have to focus very hard on all the information given to me. Sensei, with his scarred face set in a frown, makes sure things go quickly, with all files ready and compiled for easy access.

Sitting in the bank, letting Sensei do the hard work of talking with the bank-person, I wallow in my thoughts. In under an hour, I inherited a house and sold it away. I can't bring myself to feel anything but deep sorrow. Distantly, I know I'm so grateful for Sensei in this moment, but I'm so, so tired.

With the addition of all the liquid assets of my parents, I have a number. A number to sum up all the **worth** my parents, my fucking _family_ had in this harsh, mortal world.

20,242,983 yen.

Twenty million, two hundred forty two thousand, nine hundred eighty-three yen.

The money feels dirty. Blood soaked bills with ghosts lurking in the ink.

"I…" The second my voice breaks into the room, two sets of eyes are on me. I shallow. "I would like a second account please." I look at Sensei. His dark eyes are hard. But I know he understands. He turns back, and quickly puts into motion the splitting of the money.

Any future payments from missions in one account, my p-...my-...the rest of the money in another.

I suddenly feel nauseous. I duck down in my chair, head resting on my knees. After a beat, a large hand gently hits my back. I flinch, couldn't help it, but gently, oh so gently, the hand comes back and rubs circles.

It feels nice. It...helps.

If I cry, so silent and still with my head hidden, nobody says anything. By time Sensei stops, and we leave the building, my eyes are rimmed red.

But they are dry, and neither of us mention anything about the many, many heavy topics lingering in the air.

Stepping outside, into the air that rushes across my skin, I take one deep, long breath. It's cold, evening drawing near. Things have moved fast, far to fast. This one second, this one moment….I take it for me. The cool air in my lungs is refreshing. I focus on that.

Sensei is beside me, tall and relaxed in posture. When I'm ready, I turn, expectantly.

Shikaku Nara looks like he wants to say sorry, but he doesn't. I'm a ninja now, and we have things to get done. "You need proper clothes." Is all he says before he turns and walks in long strides away from me. I follow.

I pay no attention to the name of the shop we go to. (I can't _remember_ how I used to feel about clothes shopping.) The inside looks as one would expect from a clothing store, but as I touch the first shirt we pass, I can feel the thickness of the cloth. Rough, but strong. Sturdy. Sniffling my still slightly runny nose, I nod. Nice.

"Any preferences?" Sensei asks. I shrug, but my mind takes off, clicking away as I think of pros and cons of a dozen different styles.

I casually raise a fist, ready to tick off fingers. "Blue maybe?" Hmm. "Dark and neutral colors, I think for the most part." One finger goes up. "No shorts." Second finger. "Sleeves aren't a necessity." Another finger. I chew on my cheek. Hmmmmm….a fourth and final finger goes up. "Black sandals would be nice."  
I go over the list once more in my head. "Yeah," I mutter, "that's it for now." Sensei quirks an eyebrow, a tug at his lips.

"Alright." And then we're off.

"First, you need a set of mesh shirts." Sensei says, leading me back to a further corner of the store. Ah, the fish-net stuff. Cool. I reach out, but the second my fingers touch the material, I frown.

"Hey sensei," I ask, "what's this made of?"

"A very light-weight fabric. It breathes exceptionally well, and doesn't irritate the skin when worn long periods of time." He starts, pushing through the racks looking for something. "The fishnet looking pattern comes from the weaving of specially designed metal wires."

I rub the fabric. "Woah."

"This is a favorite of shinobi," he continues, "due to the protection it provides. Well it's true it can be easily repaired should it be cut, which happens frequently if one is involved in regular combat, having it is more useful than not. Not only does it allow for extra resistance again blades attacks, reducing potential damage, but it can also completely deflect attacks." He inspects a shirt in what looks to be my size. "If a kunai or shuriken, even a sword, is not properly maintained or thrown, the material can resist being cut either changing the directory of the attack, or sliding it off completely by breaking the attacks inertia."

A few shirts are put into my arms, and Sensei points to a changing room. "It's not especially useful against, say, other shinobi most of the time. But it's success against bandits, and any shinobi arrogant enough not to maintain their discipline, is very useful. A dull blade, a sloppy attack." He turns now, to stare at me in the eyes before I can grab the curtain.

"Any chance, any opening, every single slip-up an enemy makes. We must make use of it all." The Nara man closes the curtain for me, "It needs to be skin tight," is the last thing he says and I listen to his footsteps go back deeper into the store.

I look at the shirts in my hand. I can feel the bumps of the fabric covered steel, and the softer mesh in the spaces between. Even clothing, in this world, is crafted with function in mind. That being said, ninja's clearly have an aesthetic going on. It's all very anime, which is ironic.

I start trying on shirts. I envy Sensei's ability to accurately judge sizes without much effort.

(Sensei seems to have no qualms about opening the curtains partway to throw other articles of clothing at me. I yelp the first time, and I can hear a low, growly chuckle. Sensei is very fast at finding clothes, apparently.)

After a time, that mostly consists of Sensei throwing clothes at me, and me tossing some back with my thoughts, Sensei and I have found a good collection of shinobi-appropriate clothes. And if they were all in one style, and color theme for the most part? Well, nobody was gonna say jack-shit about that, or they would be hypocrites.

A half-sleeve mesh shirt, a tuckable soft blue sleeveless shirt. Grey pants, and black sandals. My favorite outfit, of which we end up with a few sets.

Full sleeve mesh, full sleeve grey shirt in an extra thick material, and darker, thicker pants. A solid set for colder weather.

I also get a wonderfully heavy hooded jacket in dark blue. It's technically heavier due to the layers of mesh armor hidden inside, but I mostly like it because the feeling of the heavy jacket is both calming and just plain nice. _Maybe I should get a weighted blanket…._ Hmm. A solid thought.

Sensei gives me the wad of money when he deems us done, and I get the pleasure of counting out bills and paying myself. I don't wear any of it out, and Sensei, being the smart Nara he is, seals it all up in a storage scroll he has instead of having to carry bags. I admit, I was very excited to see it in action.

I may or may not have thrown up words all over him the second he started sealing it up. "How does it work? Will you need it back after we're done? How do you make them? What are the limitations? Do you need specific seals for what you plan on storing?"

The scared man looks at me, saying nothing until he finishes. "Interested in seals?" I nod vigorously. "It works due to a chakra. No, you can keep this one. A seal-maker makes them. No, most storage seals are pretty generic in their ability to store most things."

Ug. "Well, those aren't satisfying answers."

Sensei snorts, in what sounds suspiciously like a chuckle. I look up, trying to search his face. I see nothing, but his dark eyes shine.

I follow him, a long winding path, that eventually leads to a mostly empty stretch of road on the edge of some trees.  
"Now." Sensei has a very commanding voice. I like it. "Tomorrow, I will be assessing your teammate." I straighten my spine immediately. "His skills, weapons preferences, how he **thinks**. What he wants." He looks at me over my shoulder. "You will go through the same the following day. Itachi's father will let him know tonight. I am letting you know now. Take the time you have to prepare. Same time, same place. You remember the details?"

"Training Ground 34, 6am." A pleased nod.

"Good." Sensei looks away, hands shoved in his pockets. The tips of his pony-tail flicker in the wind. "It's getting late." He starts slowly. "Your apartment doesn't come with a stocked kitchen, or much of anything regarding basic necessities. It would be wise for you to take care of this tomorrow, but I know it's a daunting task. I have arranged for someone to help you, they will be at your apartment in the morning."

"Smart. Sounds good." I almost smile, but Sensei isn't. The heavy topics that were lurking seem to be coming back. I clench my fists.

"You're…..former home was sealed. Left alone almost entirely untouched. If there….is anything inside that you can remember, or want," _no...nonnonononoIdon'twanttogoback_ I can take you to retrieve them. Anything remaining by tomorrow morning will be taken care of by the new owner." _bloodstained tiles, cold lap, nononononoit'snotsafe_

I can feel my self-shaking. Sensei kneels down, saying something about not having to, about a million other options we have. I look forward, but it's not his dark eyes I see.

 _the click of a camera_

 _Mom's laughing somewhere in the distance-ican'trememberhersmilewhycan'tiremember-_

 _Dad cooking up a storm, knife work sharp and smooth-whyishislapcold?Dad'slapis alwayswarmitscoldnononono-_

 _two boxes of letters, one saved, one returned_

 _my own laughter, something soft in my hands, I'm howling and Dad howls back_

 ** _imalonealonealonealonealonesontleavemeimsorryimsorrydontforgetme-_**

I force my chest to move, lungs filling in one sharp, shuddering breath.

 _i don't want to forget you to_

"Yes. I need something." Sensei looks sorrowful, panicked. A floundering man with hands hovering, hesitant to reach out and touch- "May we please go there now? I need something.  
 **I need something.**  
"

I can feel something wet on my cheeks….I wonder what it is?...

Sensei tries to convince me not to go in, to let him fetch what I want. I say nothing. My fists are clenched tight. I lead the way. I can read the handle easily, it feels...small, in my hands.

The air is dusty, stale. The house is dark, only the dying light peeking through curtains illuminating my way. I struggle to move my legs, but I have to, and so I do. With stiff strides, I walk past the kitchen. ( _there is a knife missing in that kitchen, but I dare not look_ ) The door to my parents room is closed.

I feel small.

The door feels heavy.

It opens all the same.

My throat is tight, and I'm shaking, but I walk into the room where I once curled up when I had nightmares. The bed is made, untouched. There is a messy desk in the far corner by the closet. The second I see it, I focus on solely that. (I don't want to see anything else in the room. I don't want to look but I have something to find.)  
I start opening drawers, moving papers. I find a thick, leather bound album. I turn, and in the closet, I find two boxes. I stubbornly place the album on top, and pick them up.

I turn, and forcefully walk past Sensei into the hall. I'm done here. The still open front door is calling me.

I start to pass the kitchen.

My foot hits something, and on reflex I look down.

It's a small, ragged looking stuffed wolf.

My arms are weak, and I collapse onto the floor, dropping what I came for in order to snatch up the still soft toy. It smells like dust. I can't hold it anymore, and I let it all go.

Shikaku can't stop his new student, the fragile glass boy placed into his care, from walking into the house. The boy moves like a Suna puppet on strings, one goal, one purpose.

When he runs into a stuffed toy on the ground, Shikaku watches as his student **_breaks_**.

A little boy, in a house of dust and ghosts, clutching at a little stuffed animal for dear life, sobbing desperately, brokenly, in the near darkness.

The sound rings in his ears, vicious and mocking, and Shikaku can do _nothing_.

The boy cries, face buried in soft, synthetic fur.

The boxes and a photo album are quietly sealed away. Shaking hands reach, hesitant. The boy twitches violently away, curling up in the throws of a sorrow rooted so deep down that Shikaku fears it is endless.

It takes Shikaku an agonizing 8 minutes, and 26 seconds to be able to touch the boy. Another minute and 17 seconds before he can bring the boy into his arms. He sweeps out of a house that he suddenly hates so much it makes him sick. He thinks of his own son at home. He wasn't ready for this. His student is _so young_.

His shoulder is wet by the time he opens an apartment door, and helps a sniffling little boy into a bed. The child never lets go of the little wolf, falls asleep clutching it. Shikaku runs his hands through blue hair in soothing motions, until there is only the sound of a sleeping child in the room, and his own breath.

He unpacks clothes, and nothing more. The storage scroll is placed on the table, awaiting the only person in the world who has any right to decide what to do with the remaining contents.

Shikaku goes _home_.

He falls asleep, son curled up in his arms, his own head in the lap of his wife, who runs her finger through his hair in soothing motions.


End file.
